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AUTHOR: 


ARISTOTLE 


TITLE: 


ARISTOTLE'S  TREATISE 
ON  POETRY 

PL  A  CE: 

LONDON 

DA  TE : 

1812 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES 
PRESERVATION  DEPARTMENT 

BIBLIOGRAl^liiC MIC  R0{ ORM  lAKGET 


Master  Negative  # 


Original  Material  as  Filmed  -  Existing  Bibliographic  Record 


!S8Ar51 


iSX 


Restrictions  on  Use: 


De  arte  poetica.     Eng^ 
^Twining. 

Aristoteles. 

Aristotle's  ti^atise  on  poetry,  translated  with  notes  on  the 
translation,  and  on  the  orie^inal ;  and  two  diss43rtation8,  on  po- 
etical and  musical,  imitation.  By  Th(3mas  Twining,  m.  a.  The 
2d  ed.  ...  by  Daniel  Twining  .,,  Ix)ndon,  Priiit-eii  by  L.  Han- 
sard &  sons,  and  sold  by  T.  Cadell  and  W.  Da  vies;  retc.,  etc., 
1812.  »  I      »        J 

2?.    23*". 

1.  Poetry—Early  works  to  1800.  2.  Esthetics— Early  works  to  1800 
3.  Music— Philosophy  and  esthetics.  i.  Twining,  Thomas,  1785-1804. 
e47~aod-tr.  ji.  Twining.  Daniel,  ed.  "" 


Library  of  Congress 


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>  >v   •   y  v'f^'  ''"Fir 


ARISTOTLE'S 


"Treatise  on  poetry. 


TRANSLATED: 


WITH 


NOTES 

ON  THE  TRANSLATION,  AND  ON  THE  ORIGINAL ; 


AND 

TWO  DISSERTATIONS, 

ON  POETICAL,  AND  MUSICAL,  HVHTATION. 


BY  THOMAS  TWINING,   M.A. 


OK,  ,fi^l 


THE    SECOND    EDIT! 
,  IN    TWO    VOLUMES, 

BY  DANIEL  TWINING,  M.A. 


r  i 


VOL.  I. 


Printed  6^  Luke  Hansard  i^  Sons,  near  Lincoln' s-Inn  Fields : 

AND    SOLD    BY 

T.  CADELL    AND    W.  DAVIES,    IK    THE    fTRAND  ;     PAYNE,    PALL-MALL  J 

WHITE,    COCH«ANE,    AND    CO.    FLEET-STREET  ; 
LONGMAN,    HURST,    REE9,  ORME,    AND    BROWN,    PATERNOSTER-BOW; 

DEIOHTON,    CAMBRIDGE;    OJld   PARKER,    OXFORD. 


1812. 


f 


■^'■y'>.gBEr'g«*i^.:y;i??fa;j,iW(!jff""^^ 


ah 

Df.  JAMES  PECM 
June  7.  >«3 


> 


ADVERTISEMENT 

TO    THIS    EDITION. 

HA  D  a  new  Edition  of  this  Trandation  been 
called  for  at  an  earlie?^  period,  a7id  at  a  timeichen 
its  Author  possessed  the  opportunities  of  "^ health 
and  leisure,  it  is  impossible  to  say  what  alteraticns 
or  additions  he  might  have  made.  That  in  the 
progress  of  preparing  it  he  uvuld  have  made  some 
is  most  probable.  But  his  removal  to  a  situation 
in  which  his  time  was  more  occupied  by  profes'- 
sional  duties,  together  with  the  declining  state  of 
his  health,  seems  to  have  prevented  him  from 
turning  much  of  his  attention  towards  the  accom* 
plishmcnt  of  this  design.  It  is  certain,  however^ ' 
that  the  publication  of  another  Edition  had 
sometimes  been  in  his  contemplation  ;  and  that  in 
consequence  he  had  even  xvrittcn  doze??  a  fezo 
short  Memoranda ; — but  it  does  not  appear  that 
a  necessity  of  making  many  alterations  or  additions 
had  ever  occurred  to  him. 

The  only  new  materials,  then,  which  he  has 
left  for  this  Edition  consist  in  a  small  collection  of 
such  Remarks  as  were  suggested  to  him  by 
reading  the  Notes  in  Mr.  Ty)^'hitt*s  Edition  of 
the  Treatise  on  Poetry,— intended,  as  appears  in 
his  awn  hand-writing y  merely  ^""for  his  oun  use, 

A3  in 


\ 


y 


ADVERTISEMENT 

in  case  hcsfwtfid  ever  publhh  a  second  Edition  of 
his  book ; "—and,  Ukeuise,  a  few  marginal  notes 
in  his  o-um  copy  of  the  first  Edition.  For  the 
possession  of  these,  as  zvell  as  Jor  assistance  and 
advice  in  the  me  of  them,  Iain  umnlting  to  con- 
ceal, that  I  am  indebted  to  my  Father  * 

That  these  Remarks  are  not  drrnm  up  with 
all   that  ,care   which   the  Author    would   have 
bestowed  upon  them  before  he  presented  them  to 
the  publick  eye,  will  be  apparent  to  the  Reader 
on  the  slightest  comparison  of  them  zcith  the  old, 
and  more  finished  Notes.     But  as  nothing  which 
proceeds  from  a  mind  habituated  to  refection,  ' 
upon  a  subject  to  which  it  has  been  particularly 
directed,  can  properly  be  deemed  hasty,  I  have 
ventured  to  select  some  of  these  Remarks  for 
publicatioti. 

In  making  the  Selection,  I  have  rejected  those 
which  he  had  evidently  reserved  for  future  con- 
sideration. Those  in -which  he  has  spoken  with  a 
stronger  tone  of  decision,- whet  her  admitting  his 
mm  errors,  or  confirming  his  former  opimons;  or 
expressing  his  concurrence  with  the  observations  of 
Mr.  Tyrwhitt,—!  have  thought  it  due  to  himself 
to  Mr.  Tyrwhitt;  and  to  the  publick,  to  make 
known. 

It  is  manifest  that  thtre  are  ihvee'^  passages 

V 

•Richard  Twining,  Esq.  of  hleworth  ;-broAer  of 
the  I  ranslator. 

t  See  Remarks  7.  31.  33. 


■' 


^ 


TO    THIS    EDITION. 

of  the  former  Edition  which  would  have  engaged 
the  particular  attention  of  the  Translator.  But 
as  he  has  not  fully  shewn,  and  perhaps  in  his  aujn 
mind  had  not  fully  detemuned  upon,  the  exact 
manner,  and  the  very  xvords,  in  which  he  would 
have  altered  either  the  passages  in  his  Tramlation, 
or  the  Notes  which  relate  to  them,  I  have  been 
compelled,  however  reluctantly,  to  retain  both  the 
Translation  sand  the  original  Notes  as  I  found 
ff^cm :— leaving  it  to  every  Reader  to  make  his 
own  application  of  the  additional  Rkmarks. 

fVith  res})cct,  indeed,  to  Note  241.  /  may  be 
permitted  to  say,  that  I  retain  it  with  little  or  no 
reluctance :  because,  though  it  be  probable  that  the 
tvords—nfjix  h  <[>n<r^v,— received  by  Mr.  Tyrwhitt 
into  his    Text,    wiU  in  future   be    universally' 
preferred,  and  in  consequence  the  criticism  here 
combated  by  the  Translator  be  universally  aban- 
doned, yet,  the  Note  will,  I  think,  remain  a  fair 
as  well  as  an  honourable  testimony,  that  the  taste, 
learning,  and  unbiassed  judgment  of  the  Author, 
had  at  least  guarded  him  from  assenting  to  that 
erroneous  ijiterpretatim,— sanctioned  as  it  was  by 
very  eminent  men,— which  would  have  lowered, 
and  in  a  great  degree  explained  away,  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  passages  of  the  Iliad. 

THE  EDITOR. 
Stilton^  Octr  1,  1812. 


A  4 


'  •         • 


E  R  RATA: 

VOL.  I. 
p.  117.  last  line  but  one  -  -  /or  si    -  -  -  .  read  is. 

127.  margin /or  Historain  -  read  Historian. 

145.  note  6,  last  1.  but  4,  for  philosopher,  read  philosophy. 
236.   hue  16  and  note  ">,  >r  Xoyo^--  -  -  read  Xoy^ 
^^°-  "»^  5 for  ytvi<T6ai  -  -  read  ymcrQoi. 

VOL.  IL 

p.  104.  line  9   -----  -/or  rerteux  -  -    read  vertueux. 

^•'•5-  "°^e  ' -  >r  V.  1658    -  -  rearf  v.  1368. 

181.    -"«.-- j-^j.  Xteizes    -   -  rcarf  Tzctzes. 

f  19.   line  9,  word  va^a^v\arriir6ai,  word  should  be  in  italict. 
307.  note  *>,  last  line   -  for  xasa,  . read  va<ray. 


PREFACE 


TO    THE    FIRST    EDITION. 


WHOEVER  recollects,  that,  in  writing  a 
preface,  he  presumes,  4n  some  degree  or 
other,  to  call  the  attention  of  the  pubhc  more 
particularly  to  himself,  will  hardly  be  disposed  to 
say  more  thau  he  thinks  necessary,  and  will  say 
even  that  with  some  reluctance.  To  be  allowed, 
however,  to  explain  his  own  design,  in  his  own 
defence,  is  a  privilege  which  every  writer  may  justly 
claim ;  and  I  am  too  sensible  of  the  imperfection 
of  the  following  work  to  deliver  it  up  in  silent 
confidence  to  the  public  judgment. 

It  may  be  said,  I  think,  universally,  of  all 
translation,  that  it  should  give  the  thoughts  of  the 
original  with  all  the  accuracy  possible,  and  the 
language  as  closely  as  is  consistent  with  the  pur- 
pose, which  every  man  who  writes  must  necessa- 
rily have  in  view — that  of  being  read  with  satis- 
faction. No  work  can  be  read  with  satisfaction 
if  it  is  ill  written ;  and  every  translation  is  un- 
doubtedly ill  written,  that  does  not,  as  far,  at 

least, 


X  PREFACE, 

least,  as  language  is  concerned,  read  like  an 
original ;  that,  on  the  contrary,  to  every  reader 
at  once  discovers  itself  to  be  translation,  by  that 
constrained  uncouthness  of  expression,  harshness 
of   phrase,    and    embarrassment    of    meanintr 
which  necessarily  result  from  the  transfusion  of 
idiom   out  of  one  language   into   another.     A 
work  so  translated  may  be  said  to  be  translated 
into  broken  English.     For  the  effect  is  much  the 
same,    whether    we  are  imperfectly   acquainted 
with  the  language  in  which,   or  adhere  too  ser- 
vilely  to  the   language  from  which,  we  speak : 
whether  we  write  English  in  Greek,  or  Greek  in 
English.     In  both  cases  we  write  one  language  ' 
in  the  idiom  of  another. 

But  in  steering  from  this  rock,  the  translator, 
if  he  takes  too  wide  a  compass,  will  be  in  danger 
of  running  upon  another.  It  is  singular,  that 
Pope,  in  one  of  his  early  letters,  should  have 
pointed  out,  by  a  sensible  and  true  observation, 
the  very  defect,  and  perhaps  the  only  general 
delect,  of  his  own  Homer.  In  a  letter  to  Mr. 
Cromuell  *  he  says,  "  Let  the  sense  be  ever  so 
''  exactly   rendered,    unless   an  author    looks 

LIKE    HIMSELF,    in  his  HABIT    and  MANNER, 

"  'tis  a  disguise,  and  not  a  translation."  Now, 
let  every  other  merit  possible  be  allowed  to 
Pope  s  translation,  it  surely  cannot  be  denied, 

that  * 


I 


!  Letter  34. 


\t 


PREFACE.  XI 

that  we  have  there  a  manner^  a  look^  a  habit ^  very 
widely  different  from  that  of  Hotner  himself. — But 
poetical  translation  is  attended  with  peculiar 
difficulty,  and  demands  peculiar  indulgence. 
The  translator  of  prose  into  prose  has  far  less 
excuse,  when  he  departs  so  widely  from  the  words 
of  his  author,  as  to  retain  no  resemblance  to  his 
manner ;  and  least  of  all,  perhaps,  would  such 
liberty  be  excusable  in  a  version  of  Aristotle,  in 
whose  writings,  however  perplexing  on  many 
other  accounts,  a  translator  is  seldom  embarras- 
sed by  any  of  those  delicate  "  blossoms  of  clo* 
cution,"  which  **drop  off  so  easily"  at  his  touch. 

An  English  translator,  it  has  been  said,  "  is  to 
"  exhibit  his  author's  thoughts  in  such  a  dress  of 
*'  diction  as  the  author  would  have  given  them, 
"  had  his  language  been  English  ^"  An  idea  of 
translation,  to  which  nothing  can  be  objected, 
but  the  difficulty,  I  might  perhaps  have  said,  the 
impossibility,  of  its  practical  application.  The 
rule,  therefore,  is  not  rule  enough.  It  leaves 
too  much  to  the  fancy  and  the  prejudices  of  the 
translator ;  who  will  naturally  imagine,  that  his 
awn, .  or  his  favourite,  style,  whatever  it  be,  is 
precisely  that,  which  the  author,  had  he  written 
English,  would  have  preferred.  Perhaps  the 
end  of  this  rule  cannot  any  way  be  more  securely 
answered  in  practice,  tlian  by  the  observance  of 

the 

^  Dr.  Johnson's  Life  of  Dryden,  p,  125. 


*"  PREFACE. 

the  rule  I  first  mentioned— to  depart  no  farther 
from  the  expression  of  the  original,  than  is  fairly 
required  by  the  different  genius  of  tbe  two  lan- 
guages. 

In  saying  what  I  think  ought  to   be  done  by 
every  translator,   I  have  of  course  said,  not,  I 
fear,  what  I  have  done,  but  certainly  what  1  have 
endeavoured  to   do,  myself     My  object,  in  fevr 
words,    was,   to  produce   a  version   sufficiently 
close  and  accurate  to  satisfy  those  readers  who 
are  acquainted  with  the  original,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  sufficiently  English  to  be  read  without  dis- 
gust by  those  who  are  not.— Such  a  version,  at 
the  time  when  I  was  induced  to  undertake  the 
task,  was  certainly  among  the  desiderata  of  our 
literature.     We  had  then  no  English  translation 
that  could  be  read  with  patience  by  any  one 
competently  acquainted   either  with  the  Greek 
language,  or  with  his  own.     I  know  indeed  of 
but  two  attempts  \     The  one,  published  in  1 705, 
a  mere  translation  of  Daciei  s  translation,  notes,' 

and 


«  Fabricius  gives  the  following  account  of  a  transla. 
tion  by  Rymer :  -  Jnglice,  Rimero  irterprete,  cum  Renati 
*'  Rapini  Obscrvatiombus  Pccticn,  }  Gallico  in  idem  idioma 
«  translatis,  Lend,  1674."-^;.^.  G.^c,  vol.  ii  p.  124.- 
The  best  inquiries  I  have  been  able  to  make  justify  nie 
in  concluding  this  account  to  be  a  mistake,  occasioned 
by  Rymer's  translation  of  Rapines  Reflections  on  Aris^ 
totle\  Treatise  of  Poesie,  dec.  published  in  1694,  and  to 
which  he  prefixed  hn  famous  critical  Preface. 


PREFACE,  Kiu 

and  preface ;  though  professing,  in  the  title-page, 
to  be  translated  from  the  original  Greek,  and 
accompanied,  indeed,  by  some  marginal  improve^ 
merits  from  the  Greek  text,  most  of  which,  if 
admitted  into  the  version,  would  make  it  still 
worse  than  it  is. — The  other  is  a  translation 
from  the  Greek,  I  know  not  by  whom,  published 
in  1775.  It  may  speak  sufficiently  for  itself  by 
a  few  specimens,  which,  from  among  many  others 
of  the  same  sort,  I  have  given  in  the  margin*^. 

It  would  be  doing  injustice  to  the  translation 
lately  given  to  the  public  by  Mr.  Pye,  to  place 
it,  in  any  view,  however  favourable,  by  the  side 
of  these.  A  particular  and  critical  examination 
of  its  merits  would  come  with  little  propriety 
from  me.  So  much,  however,  I  may  be  allowed 
to  say,  for  it  is  an  indisputable  fact,  that  Mr.  Pye's 
translation  and  mine  are  frequently  very  differ- 
ent ;  and  that,  in  many  passages,  if  he  is  right, 
I  must  confess  myself  to  be  wrong. 

It  is  natural  for  me  to  wish,  that  I  could  se- 
cure tlie  indulgence  of  the  reader,  by  giving  him 

some 


^  P.  3,  and  throughout,  hh  is  rendered  "  morals.*' — 
p.  II,  and  16,  avroarxs^'iaa-fjuxra,  ^*  self -formed  images"--^ 
p.  31.  TTpog  fAiv  th;  ay  ma;  kou  mv  oidOno'iv — **  with  regard 
**  to  t/ie  Controversies  and  the  Conception,*' — p.  57.aTExvo- 
np» — "  a  degree  neater  art^ —  p.  89.  Ex«  ^^  "^p^i  '^^ 
STreKTtiv^a-Qai  ro  fjaysd^  ttOj/  ri  h.  ETrowoua  iiioi, — *^  Epic 
'^  has  muc/i  peculiar  for  lengthening  the  greatness*  — • 
p.  92,  aJwara  im  zlmrg^ — *'  Impossibilities  and  Suitable,**. 


r 


^''  PREFACE, 

some  idea  of  the   uncommon    difficulties,  with 
which  a  translator  of  this  work  of  Aristotle  has 
to  struggle.     But  they  are  such   as  can  hardly 
be  conceived,  but  by  those  who  are  well  acquain- 
ted  with  the  original ;  and  even  among  tliem  I 
may  venture  to  say,  can  be  adequately  conceived 
by  those  only,    who  have  tried  their  strenath 
against    them    by   actual    experiment.      These 
difficulties  arise  from  various  sources:  from  the 
elliptic  conciseness,  and  other   peculiarities,  of 
Aristotle's  style,  and  from  the  nature  of  the  work 
Itself,  which,  in  many  parts  of  it  at  lea.t,  seems  ■ 
to  have  been  intended  for  little  more  than  a  col- 
lection of  hints,  or  short  memorial  notes,  and  has 
sometimes  almost  the  appearance  of  a  syllabus 
for  lectures,  or  a  table  of  contents';  so  that  we 
might  apply  to  it,  in  some  degree,  what  Aristotle 
bim^lf  ,s  said  to  have  written  to  Alexander  the 
Oreat,    who  had   reprimanded  him   for  having 
published  some  private  lectures  which  that  Prince 
bad  received  from  him :  "  They  are  published," 

answered 

;  -"  He  has   a  dry  conciseness,    that  makes  one 
imagine  one  is  perusing  a  table  of  contents,  rather 
«  than  a  book."_Gray's  Letters,  Sect.  4.  Le>.  3.    The 
account  Mr.  Gray  there   gives  of  Aristotle's  writings, 
Aough  It  .s  written   with   the  sportive  pleasantry  of  a 
famihar  letter,  is  extremely  just;  except,  perhaps,  in  one 
obser^^t■on  :-it  seems  hardly  fair  to  conclude  that  Aris-     i. 
totle  '■lmh-mu//,»  wherever  his  r.W.«  are  »*;.  at  a 
40S3  to  find  his  iBcaning. 


PREFACE.  xr 

answered  the  philosopher,  *'  and  not  published ; 
"  for  they  are  intelligible  only  to  those  who  have 
*^  been  my  pupils  ^"  An  answer,  which  does 
indeed  give  some  countenance  to  the  assertion  of 
Ammonius,  that  the  obscurity  of  Aristotle's  style 
was  voluntary".  Yet  I  hope  the  assertion  is  not 
true.  I  cannot  persuade  myself  to  give  full 
credit  to  an  account  so  degrading  to  a  great  phi- 
losopher. Aild  surely  it  is  but  a  perverse  kind 
of  apology,  to  assign,  of  all  the  causes  of  ob- 
scurity that  can  be  assigned,  the  only  one  which 
leaves  it  totally  without  excuse.  If,  however, 
this  was  really  the  case,  it  must  be  confessed, 
that  Aristotle  succeeded  well,  and 'Stood  in  little 
need  of  the  admonition  of  the  school-master 
mentioned  by  Quintilian,  *^  qui  discipulos  o3- 
*'  scurare  quce  dicerent  juberet,  Graeco  verbo 
"  utens,  IxoTio-oi*  ^y  —  Another  considerable 
source  of  difficulty  is,  that  so  many  of  the 
Tragedies   and   other   poems,    alluded   to,   and 

quoted, 

'  U^i  «v   o^rsff   KAI    EKAEAOMENOTS   KAI  MH 
EKAEAOMENOT2  *  ^weioi  yap  tm  fMvoig  roi;  h/^uov  outH-^ 
aaa-iv, — See  Aul.  Gell.  XX.  5.  where  the  two  letters,i 
of  Alexander  and  Aristode,  are  preserved. 

*  H6K?^X^  ''■f  cwt^^iy fJi£)iov^  ["sc.    TO  ii^^  rav  AfirortXag 

y^sf^avr^ ,  oXX*  'EKOTSIHS  t«to  Tr^TroiYffKv.  jimmon,  ad 
CaUg.  Aristot.  See  also  Fabric^  Bib,  Grt^c,  voL  iv.  p.  1 66. 

• — a(Ta^£iaof  lmrr\huai. 

"  Quiatil.  Via.  2. 


\ 


xvi  PREFACE, 

quoted,  throughout  the  treatise,  are  lost.— But 
the  chief  of  these  sources,  undoubtedly,  is  the 
mutilated  and  corrupt  condition  of  the  text.  The 
work  is  but  a  fragment :— n Jax®-    l^  It^t^;  Ixiy^ 

Xi(iocg\ — I  wish  I  could  add,    AAA'  nVi?   xaOa^>j   Ti 

XXI  ax^aocvrf^  dvi^irH  :  but  even  of  this  fragment 
it  may  be  doubted,  whether  it  has  been  most 
injured  by  mutilation,  or  by  repair.  1  he  history 
given  by  Strabo,  of  the  fate  of  Aristotle's '  works 
after  his  death,  is  so  curious,  and  so  eftectually 
removes  all  wonder  at  the  mangled  state  in  which 
we  find  them,  that  I  shall  here,  for  the  sake  of 
the  English  reader,  insert  a  translation  of  it. 

**  The   Socratic   philosophers,     Erastus     and 
*'  Coriscus,    were  natives  of  Scej)sis  ^ ;  as  was 
"  also  Neleus,  (the  son  of  Coriscus,)  who  was 
"  a  scholar  of  Aristotle  and  Theophrastus,  and 
'^  to  whom  the  latter  bequeathed  his  library,  in 
'^  which  was  included   that  of  Aristotle.     For 
"  Aristotle,  who,  as  far  as  we  know,  was  the 
''  first  collector  of  books,    and   the    first  who 
taught  the  kings  of  Egypt  to  form  and  arrange 
a   library,  left  hif  own   collection  of  books, 
'*  (as  he  also  did  his  school,)  to  Theophrastus  ; 
"  and  from  Theophrastus  it  came  to  Neleus. 
"  Neleus  removed  it  to  Scepsis,  and  left  it  to 
"  his  descendants ;  who,  being  illiterate  persons, 
"  threw   the    books   together    as   lumber,    and 

"  locked 


i< 


« 


[  A  city  of  Mysia. 


xvu 


PREFACE. 

•*  locked  them  up :  but  afterwards,  when  they 
**  heard,  that  the  Attalic  monarchs,  their  sove- 
"  reigns,  were  taking  great  pains  to  collect  books 
"  for  the  Pergamenian  library,  they  concealed 
"  them  in  a  cave  under  ground ;  whence,  after 
*'  having  been  long  damaged  by  damp  and  wonns  *", 
'**  the  books  both  of  Aristotle  and  Theophrastus 
"  were,  at  length,  sold  by  some  of  the  family,  at 
"  a  great  price,  to  Apellicon  the  Teian.  This 
"  man  was  rather  a  lover  of  books,  than  a  lover 
**  of  wisdom,  or  a  Philosopher^;  and  being 
'*  therefore  anxious  to  restore,  at  any  rate,  those 
*^  parts  of  the  manuscripts  that  had  been  des- 
"  troyed  or  damaged,  he  had  them  fairly  copied; 
^*  and,  the  vacuities  in  the  writing  beijig  unskil- 
"  yw%  supplied,  they  were  thus  published,  full 
"  ofblutfders.  The  old  Peripatetics,  who  suc- 
**  ceeded  Theophrastus,  possessing  none  of  these 
**  writings,  except  a  very  few,  and  those  chiefly 
''  of  the  exoteric  kind,  were  not  (jualified  to 
"  philosophize  accurately,  but  contented  tliem- 
"  selves  with  treating,  in  a  shewy  and  superficial 
*'  manner,  such  particular  questions  as  were  pro- 
"  posed.  The  later  Peripatetics,  however,  who 
"  lived  after  the  publication  of  those  books,  were 
*'  enabled  to  teach  the  Aristotelic  doctrines  with 
"  more  exactness ;  yet  even  they,  from  the  mul- 

"  titude 


*  *iXo^i^A^  fdO^^f  h  fiho(ro<f(^. — A  very  modem  sort 
of  character. 

VOL.  1.  b 


«>^"i  PREFACE. 

''  titude  of  errors  in  their  copies,  were  frequently 
••  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  explanations  merely 
*'  conjectural .     And   these    errors    were  much 
''  increased  at  Rome.     For  immediately  on  the 
*'  death  of   Apellicon,   Sylla,    when    he    took 
"  Athens,  possessed  himself  of  his  library,  and 
''  carried  it  to  Rome ;  where  the  books  fell  into 
''  the  hands  of  Tyrannio  the  Grammarian,  a 
*'  great  admirer  of  Aristotle,  who  procured  them 
"  from  the  librarian ;  and  afterwards  into  those 
"  of  certain  booksellers,  who  employed  careless 
"  and  ignorant  transcribers,  and  neglected   to 
"  collate  the  copies  with  the  originals ;  which  is 
^  also  the  case  with  many  other  books  trans- 
"  cribed  for  sale,  both  at  Rome  and  Alexan- 
**driaV' 

In  the  division  of  the  t'anslation  into  Parts 
and  Sections,  there  was  no  authority  to  restrain 
me  from  following  my  own  ideas,  and  preferring 
that  method  which  appeared  most  conducive  to 
clearness.— By  the  marginal  titles  the  conve- 
nience of  the  reader  is  consulted :  he  has  the 
work,  and  its  index,  under  his  eye  at  the  same 
time.— The  order  of  the  chapters  I  have  not 
attempted  to  disturb.     But  if,  on  the  one  hand, 
I  cannot  admit  the  unnecessary  and  licentious 
transpositions  of  Heinsius,  neither  can  I,  on  the 

^^^ •  other, 

■  Strabo,  lib.  xiii.   p.  6g8,  D.  ed.  Casaub.— See  also 
Plutarch's  life  of  SyUa,  p.  8j6,  ed,  H.  St.  and  Baylc, 

art.  TVRANNION. 


PRE  F  A  C  1.  xix 

tlher,  assent  to  tliose  commentators,  who,  like 
Dacier,  defend,  on  all  occasions,  the  common 
arrangement  as  authentic.     If  jJ^ey  are  right,  we 

'^  v^    ft 

must  suppose  one  of  the  most  itfict  and  me- 
thodical of  philosophers  to  have  been  sometimes 
almost  as  careless  as  old  Montagne ;  who,  as 
he  tells  us  pleasantly,  "  rian)oit  point  d' autre 
"  sergent  de  batide  a  rajiger  ses  pieces  que  la 
*'  fortune.^  * 

Every  translation  should  be  accompanied  with 
such  explanations  as  are  necessary  to  render  it 
intelligible  to  those  readers  who  are  supposed, 
chiefly,  to  have  recourse  to  translation ;  those, 
who  are  totally  unacquainted  with  the  language 
of  the  original.  This  is  the  object  of  the  short 
notes  under  the  version ;  in  which,  however,  I 
have  sometimes  referred  to  the  larger  notes, 
when  they  were  such  as  would  answer  the  same 
purpose. 

These  last-mentioned  Notes,  'A'hich  follow  the 
Translation,  and  the  two  Dissertations  prefixed 
to  it,  (which  indeed  are  but  longer  notes  thrown 
into  that  form,)  I  wish  to  be  considered  as  the 
principal  part  of  my  design.  They  form  a  full, 
and  nearly  a  continued,  commentary.  My  pur- 
pose was,  to  discuss  all  the  difficulties  of  the 
original^  of  whatever  kind  :  to  remove,  or  at  least, 
to  diminish  them,  where  I  could  ;  where  I  could 
not,  to  state  them  fiirly,  and  to  confess  them — • 
the  easiest  part,   certainly,  of  a  commentator's 

b  2  .  duty, 


hf^^.  ^..  ■  .-.i^:'^ 


5C3C  PREFACE. 

duty,  though  not    perhaps,  tha-,  which  b  most 
coniaionlv  dischiin^ed. 

As  a  great  pa^t  of  these  difficulties  arise  from 
the  obscurity  or  corruption  of  the  Greek  text,  a 
great  part  of  my  comment  is,   of  course,  takea 
up  by  philological  and   verbal   criticism.     But 
though  my  plan  obliged  me  to  submit  to  an  em- 
ployment which  wit  has  disgraced  by  the  name 
of  '^word-catching,"  I  hope  it  will  not  be  found 
that  I  altogether    ''Ike  on  syllables"."     It  is, 
indeed,  rather  hard  upon  a  commentator,  that  he 
should  be  expected  to  "  catch "  the  meaning  of 
his  author,  and,  at  the  same  time,  reproached  for 
endeavouring  to  catch  the  words  in  which  that 
meaning   is  contained.     But,   in  executing  this 
part  of  my  task,  I  must  confess  myself  to  have, 
indeed,  an  insatiable  appetite  for  obscurity,  if  I 
have   discovered  any  desire  of  finding  the  text 
more  corrupt  and  mutilated  than  it  is.     Whei^ 
I  have  indulged  conjecture,  I  hope  I  have  always 
remembered  that  it  is  conjecture,  and  have  nei- 
ther insulted  the  reader,  nor  disgraced  myself, 
by  the  disgusting,  though  privileged,  language  of 
emendatory   criticism   on    antient  authors.      A 
Lat'in  commentator,  indeed,  may  lay  any  wager^ 
that  his  author  wrote  this,  or  that ;  may  assert  his 
emendation  to  be  clearer  than  light  itself y  and 
say  to  his  reader,  if  you  are  not  a  blockhead,  you 
^^       *  will 

"  '*  ii.ach  word-catcher,  that  lives  on  syllables."— 
Pope's  Ep,  lo  Arbuthnot. 


XXI 


PREFACE. 

will  be  of  my  opinion^  &c.— "  Nobis  non  licet 
*'  esse  tam  disertis." 

Thev,  who  think  ariy  interpretation  better  than 
none,  may  perhaps  wish,  that  I  had  not  employed 
so  considerable  a  portion  of  my  notes  in  merely 
stating  difficulties  which  had  not  l)een  fully  seen 
or  fairly  acknowledged,  without  atten)pting  to 
remove  them ;  in  combating  interpretations 
hitherto  acquiesced  in  as  satisfactory,  and  shewing, 
that  many  passages,  supposed  to  be  sufficiently 
understood,  are  yet  to  be  explained.  This  is 
certainly  not  that  part  of  a  commentator's  duty, 
which  is  most  pleasant,  either  to  his  readers,  or 
himself;  but  it  is  surely  a  necessary  and  indis- 
pensable part  of  it,  and  I  have  endeavonred  to 
discharge  it  faithfully.  I  hope  I  have  no  where 
either  made  a  difficulty  to  shew  my  sagacity,  or 
dissembled  one  to  conceal  the  want  of  it. 

We  live  in  a  delicate  and  fastidious  age,  in 
which  learning,  even  i^i  books,  is  hardly  released 
from  the  iifcessity  of  observing,  in  some  degree, 
what  Fontenelle  calls  "  the  exterior  decencies  of 
"  ig)wrance  p."  But,  if  pedantry  be  an  unneces^ 
sary^  unseasonable,  and  therefore  ostentatious, 
display  of  learning,  I  should  hope,  that  the  nature 
of  my  work  would  sufficiently  secure  me  against 

that 


**  *' Quovis  pigiiore  contenderini." — ''Luce  meri- 
"  diana  clarius.*'— *'  Tii,  si  sapis,  mecum  repone.'*— 
&c.  &c. 

•  "  Les  bienseances  extcrieures  de  Tignorance.'* 

b3 


XXll 


PREFACE. 

that  charge.     It  mIU  scarce  be  thou^^ht  strange 
that  notes,  intended  to  explain  a  Greek  autho/ 
and  supposed,  of  course,  to  be  addressed  to  (ircek 
;    scholars,  should  abound  uith   Creek  quotations. 
One  of  my  chief  objects  was,  to  illustrate  Aristotle 
^vherever  I  could,  from  hirnseh;  and  from  Plato' 
to  whose  opinions  and  writings  he  continually 
alludes.     Another  was,  to  relieve  the  dryness  of 
so   much   philological    discussion   by   passages, 
^vhich,  at  the  same  time  that  they  throw  light  upon 
the  author,  might  also  be  expected  to  afford  some 
pleasure  to  the  reader,  either  as  beautiful,  or  a^ 
curious.     With  the  same  view,  I  have  now  and 
then  ventured  to  quit,  for  a  moment,  my  direct 
path; -to  transgress  Seneca's  rule,  '' Quo  ducit 
"  materia  sequendum  est,  non  qu6  invitat^  and 
to  avail  myself  of  some  of  those  many  openinag 
^hich  Aristotle  affords,  into  collateral,  though  imJ 
irrelative  inquiries. 

The  time  is  come,  wheil  we  no  longer  read  the 
antients  with  our  judgments  shackli^  by  deter- 
mined  admiration ;  when  even  from   the  editor 
and  the  commentator,  it  is  no  longer  required  as 
an  mdispensable  duty,  that  he  should  sec  nothincr 
m  his  author  but  perfection.     Ko  apologv  there- 
fore,  1   trust,   will'  be   required    from    me,   for 
speaking  freely  of  the  defects   of  this  work   of 
Aristotle,  even  where  those  defects  appear  to  be 
his  own. 

It  is  necessary  to  mention,  that  many  of  my 

^  notes 


PREFACE.  ,      xxiii 

notes  were  written,  and  of  more  the  materials 
were  prepared,  before  I  consulted,  or  indeed  had 
it  in  my  power  to  consult,  some  of  the  earliest  and 
best  commentators,  whose  works  are  too  scarce 
to  be  procured  at  the  moment  they  are  wanted.'^ 
In  perusing  them  I  might  often  have  adopted  the 
exclamation  of  the  old  Grammarian  ^,  *'  Pereant^ 
**  qui  ante  nos  nostra  dlrerunt  T    But  **  every 
"  thing,"  says  Epictetus,   "  has  two  handles;'* 
and  it  required  but  little  philosophy  in  this  case, 
to  be  more  pleased  with  the  support  which  my 
opinions  received   from  such  coincidence,  than 
mortified  by  the  mere  circumstance  of  prior  occu- 
pation :  a  circumstance,  which,  after  all,  could 
not  deprive  me  of    the  property  of  my  own 
thoughts,  though,  as   Dr.  Johnson  has  observed 
on  a  similar  occasion',  I  certainly  can  pxrce  that 
property  only  to    myself.  — This   coincidence, 
wherever  I  found  it,  I  have  scrupulously  pointed 

out 

How  much  subsequent  commentators,  and 
Dacier  in  particular,  have  been  obliged  to  the 
labours  of  those  learned,  acute,  and  indefatigable 
Italians,  will  perhaps  sufficiently  appear  from  tlie 
use  I  have  made  of  them,  and  the  frequent  ex- 
tracts, which  the  scarceness  of  their  books  has 
induced  me  to  give  from   them  in  my  notes. 

This 


«  Donatus. 

'  Prcf.  to  Shakspcarc, 

b4 


«^>  PREFACE. 

This  I  must  be  allowed  to  say,  that,  in  my 
opinion,  great  injustice  is  done  to  their  merits  by 
those  editors,  who  not  only  neglect  to  avail  them- 
selves of  their  assistance,  but  atfect  also  to  speak 
of  them  with  conteuipt.     The  truth  is.  that  to 
consult  them  is  a  work  of  considerable  labour, 
and  requires  no  small  degree  of  patience  and  re- 
solution.     The  trouble  we  are  unwilling  to  take, 
we  easily  persuade  ourselves  to  think  not  worth 
taking;  and  plausible  reasons  are  readily  ^iven, 
and    as   readily  admitted,   for   neglecting,  \  hat 
those,  to  whom  we  make  our  apology,  are,  in 
general,  a^  httle  disposed  to  take  the  pains  of 
examining  as  ourselves.     And  thus,  "  Ditficuitas 
''  laborque  discendi  disertam  negligentiam 

"   REDDIT  V 

In  what  I  have  here  said,  I  allude,  more  par- 
ticularly, to  tlie  commentaries  of  Castelvetro  and 
Beni^  Their  prolixity,  their  scholastic  and 
^_^ trifling 

•  Cic.deDivin.I.47. 

•  Pcetlca  d^Arhtotele  vulgarizxata  e  sposta  per  Lodovlc. 
Castelvetrt,  &c.      BusU.  1576. 

Pauli   Bcml,   Eugvbim,   hz.    In   Arhtotelis   Poeticam 
Ummentam,  &c.  Fenet,  1624. 

Castelvetro's  oiricism  is  well  characterized,  and  its 

effect  upon  his  reader    well   described,    by  Gravina  : 

^^  E  perche  il  Castelvetro,  quantoc  acuto  e  diligente,  ed 

amator   del  vero,  tanto  e  difficile  ed  affannoso  per 

quelle  scolastiche  reti,  chc  agli  aKri  ed  a  se  stcssi, 

''  allora, 


XXV 


PREFACE. 

trifling  subtilty,  their  useless  tediousness  of  logical 
analysis,  their  microscopic  detection  of  difficulties 
invisible  to  the  naked  eye  of  common  sense,  and 
their  waste  of  confutation  upon  objections  made 
only  by  themselves,  and  made  on  purpose  to  be 
confuted — all  this,  it  must  be  owned,  is  disgusting 
and  repulsive.  It  may  sufficiently  release  a  com- 
mentator from  the  duty  of  reading  their  works 
throughout,  but  not  from  that  of  examining  and 
consulting  them :  for  in  both  these  writers,  but 
more  especially  in  Beni,  there  are  many  remarks 
equally  acute  and  solid ;  many  difficulties  well 
seen,  clearly  stated,  and,  sometimes,  successfully 
removed ;  many  things  usefully  illustrated,  and 
judiciously  explained;  and  if  their  freedom  of 
censure  is  now  and  then  disgraced  by  a  little  dis- 
position to  cavil,  this  becomes  almost  a  virtue, 
when  compared  with  the  servile  and  implicit  ad- 
miration of  Dacier,  who,  as  a  fine  writer  has 
observed,  '*  avoit  fait  voeu  d'etre  de  I'avis 
*'  d'Aristote,  soit  qu'il  I'entendit  ou  qu'il  ne  Ten- 
"  tenditpasV 

Of 


'*  allora,  i  inaggiori  ingegni  tendeano  j  percio,  per  dis- 
"  petto  spesso  e  per  rahbia  vien  da'  lettori  abbandonato, 
""  ed  c  da  loio  condannato,  prima  che  intendano  la  sua 
"  ragione ;  la  <juale  si  rincrescono  tirar  fuori  da  quci 
**  labirinti  delle  sue  sottili  c  moleste  distinzioni."  Delia 
Tragedia,  p.  75. 

■  Maritiontel,  Poetiquc  Fran^oise,  Pref.  p.  6. 


«vi  PREFACE. 

Of  the  translations  and  commentaries  UTitten 
in  the  Itahan  language  there  is  one,  which  de- 
serves particular  notice,   though,  by  what  hard 
fate  I  know  not,  it  seenis  scarce  to  have  been 
noticed  at  all :   I  mean   that  of  Piccolomim  \ 
His  version,  though  sometimes  rather  paraphras- 
tical,  is  singularly  exact ;  and,  on  the  whole,  more 
faithful  to  the  sense,  or  at  least  to  what  /  conceive 
to  be  the  sense,  of  Aristotle,  than  any  other  that 
I  have  seen.    In  his  commentary,  he  has  nothing 
of  the  Quixotism  of  Castelvctro  and  Beni.     He 
does  not  sally  forth  so  eagerly  to  the  relief  of 
distressed  readers,  as  to  create  the  distress  for  the 
sake  of  shewing  his  prowess  in  surmounting  it. 
Some  commentators  appear  to  be  really  disap- 
pointed, when  they  find  any  thing  which  they 
cannot  deny  to    be    intelligible.      Ticcolomini 
fairly  endeavoured  to  understand  his  author ;  and, 
which  is  no  small  praise,  seems  always  to  have 
understood   himself.      His  annotations,   though 
often  prolix  and  diffused,  are  generally  sensible, 
and  always  clear.     Tliey  will  sometimes  tire  the 
reader,  but  seldom,  I  think,  perplex  liim. 

^'^ 

^  jfnnotationl  di  M.  Jlessartdro  Piccolomim,  ml  libro 
dclla  Poetica  d'Aristoule ;  con  la  traduttione  del  nudesims 
libro  in  lingua  volgan.  In  Finegla.  l57S.~>-Piccolomini 
was  archbishop  of  Patras.  See  Baylc.  He  also  wrote 
Copiosissima  Parafrase  ml  Retorica  d'Jristouli.  Vemt. 
»5^5-  A  clear,  exact,  and  useful  work,  tiiough  prolix, 
and  an  unpleasant  mixture  of  traasiatign  and  comment, ' 


XXVIl 


PREFACE. 

With  respect  to  the  original  work  itself,  it  would 
be  superfluous  to  enter,  here,  into  any  discussion 
of  its  merits  and  its  defects.     My  ideas  of  both 
will  suflSciently  appear  in  the  course  of  my  notes. 
I  must  however  reiDark  one  point  of  view,  in 
which  the  criticism  of  Aristotle  has  always  par- 
ticularly struck  me,  though  it  seems  to  have  been 
little  noticed :  And  that  is,  that/nis  philosophy, 
austere  and  cold  as  it  appears,  has  not  encroached 
upon  his  taste.     He  has  not  indeed  expressed 
that  taste  by  mixing  the  language  of  admiration 
witli  that  of  philosophy  in   his  investigation  of 
principles,  but  he  has  discovered  it  in  those  prin- 
ciples themselves ;  which,  in   many  respects  at  ^ 
least,  are  truly  poetical  principles,  and  such  as 
afford  no  countenance  to  that  sort  of  criticism, 
^vhich  requires  the   Poet  to  be  "  of  reason  all 
compact."      Aristotle,    on    the   contrar)',  every 
where  reminds  him,  that  it  is  his  business  to  re- 
present, not  what  w,  but  what  should  be  ;  to  look 
beyond  actual  and  common  nature,  to  the  ideal 
model  of  perfection  in  his  own  mind.     He  sees 
fully,  what  the  ratiotiaHsts  among  modern  critics 
have  not  always   seen,  the    power  of  popular 
opinion  and  belief' upon  poetical  credibility  *— that 
'•  a  legend,  a  tale,  a  tradition,  a  rumour,  a  super- 
"  stiuon — in  short,  any  thing,  is  enough  to  be  the 

"  basis 


*  See  the  translation.  Part  IV.  Sect.  I,  and  the  note 
there  :  Sect.  3,  and  6, 


xxviii    .  PREFACE. 

"  basis  of  the  poet's  air-formed  mmis  ^"    He 
^     never  loses  sight  of  the  e,u/ ot  Poetry,  which,  in 
contormity  to  common  sense,    he  "held   to'  be 
pleasure  \     He  is  ready  to  excuse,  not  only  im- 
possibilities, but  even  absurdities,  where  that  a>d 
appears  to  be  better  answered  with  them,  than  it 
would  have  been  without  them '.     In  a  word,  he 
asserts  the  privileges  of  Poetry,  and  gives  her  free 
range  to  employ  her  whole  power,  and  to  do  all 
she  can  do-that  is,  to  impose  upon  the  ima- 
gination,  by  whatever  means,  as  far  as  imagination 
for  the  sake  of  its  own  pleasure,  uill  consent  tJ 
be  imposed  upon '^  Poetry  can  do  no  more  than 
■   this,  and,  from  it/ very  nature  and  end,  ought  not 
to  be  required  to  do  less.     If  it  is  our  interest  to 
be  cheated,   it  is  her  duty  to  cheat  us  ^     The 
cntic,  who  suffers  his  philosophy  to  reason  away 
his  pleasure,  is  not  much  wiser  than  the  child 
who  cuts  open  his  drum,  to  see  wliat  it  is  within 
that  caused  the  sound. 

The 


^  Letters  on  Chivalry  and  Romance,  p.  300. 

•  This  I  have  endeavoured  to  prove  in  Note  277 

•  Part  IV.  Sect.  2.  and  p.  184—6. 

»  I  allude  to-  the  ingenious  saying  oi  Crgia.,  who 
called  Tragedy,  "  an  impouthn,  tolure  they  who  cheat  u, 
"^  are  hone,ter  than  they  who  do  not  cheat  us,  and  they  wha 
"  are  cheated,  wiser  than  they  who  are  nof  cheated."— Tw 

elut.  de  aud.  Poet.  f.  26.  td.  H.  S, 


J 


PREFACE.  xxix 

The  English  reader  of  Aristotle  will,  I  hope, 
do  him  (and,  I  may  add,  his  translator,)  so  much 

justice,  as  to  recollect,  when  the  improvements  of 
modern  criticism  occur  to  him,  that  he  is  reading 
a  book,  which  was  written  above  two  thousand 

.years  ago,  and  which,  for  the  reasons  already 
given,  can  be  considered  as  little  more  than  the 
fragment  of  a  fragment.  What  would  have  been 
the  present  state  of  poetical  criticism,  had  Aristotle 
never  written,  it  is  impossible  to  say  :  two  facts, 
however,  are  certain :  that  he  was  the  first  who 
carried  pKilosophical  investigation  into  tliese  re- 
gions of  imagination  and  fiction,  and  that  the 
ablest  of  his  successors  have  not  disdained  to 
pursue  the  path  which  he  had  opened  to  them, 
and  even,  in  many  instances,  to  tread  in  his  very 
footsteps.  It  may  therefore,  possibly,  be  true, 
that  modern  critics  are,  in  some  measure,  indebted 
to  Aristotle  himself  for  their  very  pretensions  to 
despise  him.     At  least,  the  more  we  admire  the 

"^  skill  of  those,  who  have  raised  and  finished  the 
structure,  the  more  feason  we  have  to  respect  the 
Architect,  who  not  only  gave  the  plan,  but,  with 
it,  many  specimens  of  masterly  execution.  / 
-  With  respect  to  my  own  work,  I  have  already 
said  all  that  I  thought  it  necessary  to  say,  by  way 
of  explaining  its  design,  and  of  apologizing  for 
such  particulars  in  the  execution  of  it,  as  mitxht 
appear  most  liable  to  exception.  To  suppose  it 
free  from  imperfection  and  error,  would  be  not 

only 


/ 


I 


«x  PREFACE. 

only  to  forget  the  nature  of  the  work,  but  to  for- 
get myself.     I  commit  it  with  the  less  anxiety  to 
the  candour  of  the  public,  as  I  am  confident, 
(and  it  is  the  only  confidence  I  allow  myself  to 
feel,)  that  the  time  and  the  labour  I  have  bestowed 
upon  it  will,  at  least,   acquit  me  of  that  disre- 
spectful indifference  to  the  public  judgment,  which 
haste  and  negligence  imply.     It  is  now  six  years 
since  tlie  translation  was  finished  ;  and  both  that, 
and  the  dissertations  and  notes,  have  received 
every  advantage  of  revision  and  correction,  which 
either  my  own  care,  or  friendly  criticism,  could 
give  them.     And,   upon  this  occasion,  I  cannot 
refuse  myself  the  gratification  of  publicly  acknow- 
ledging how  much  I  owe  to  the  accurate  judgment 
and  just  taste  of  one  person  %  in  particular,  ia 
whom  I  found  precisely  that  friendly  censor,  so 
happily  and  so  comprehensively  characterized  by 
the  Poet  as 

*'  Eager  to  praise,  yet  resolute  to  blame, 
"  Kind  to  his  verse,  but  kinder  to  his  fame  * :" 
—and  of  whom,  indeed,  I  may  say,  without  any 
fear  of  indulging  too  far  the  partiality  of  friend- 
ship, that  he  never  shrinks  from  any  task,  whether 
of  private  kindness,  or  more  general  benevolence, 
tliat  calls  for  his  assistance,  and  stands  in  need  of 
his  abilities. 


*  The  Rev.  Dr.  Forster,  of  Colchester. 

*  Hay  ley's  Episde  oa  the  death  of  Mr.  Thornton; 


[      XXXI      ] 


I  T  AK  E  the  only  opportunity  now  left  me  to 
mention  a  book,  which  was  very  lately  sent  to  me 
by  a  friend,  and  which  I  have  read  with  great 
pleasure; — Dramaturgky  <ni  Observations  cri- 
tiques  sur  plusieurs  pieces  de  TkSatrCy  tant  ancien^ 
nes  que  modemes:  [Paris  1785} — a  translation 
from  the  German  of  the  late  Mr.  Lessing.  The 
notice  taken  of  the  original  work  in  Mr.  Win- 
stanley's  edition  of  Aristotle  had,  indeed,  long 
ago  excited  my  curiosity ;  but  I  am  unacquainted 
with  the  German  language,  and  my  inquiries 
afforded  me  no  reason  to  conclude  that  the  work 
had  been  translated.  It  contains  many  excellent 
and  uncommon  things.  Mr.  Lessing  appears  to 
me  to  have  possessed,  in  no  ordinary  degree,  that 
combination  of  taste  and  philosophy — of  strength 
of  feeling  and  strength  of  thought — upon  wliich 
good  and  original  criticism  depends.  He  had,  it 
seems,  particularly  applied  himself  to  the  study 
of  Aristotle's  treatise  on  Poetry ;  as  indeed  suffi- 
ciently appears  from  several  masterly  discussions 
of  difficult  and  contested  passages  in  that  w^ork. 
I  cannot  but  regret,  that  he  did  not  write  a 
regular  commentary  on  the  whole.  From  the 
specimens  he  has  given.  I  have  no  doubt,  that  it 
would  have  been,  in  many  respects,  far  superior 

to 


[    xxxli    ] 
to  any  other  work  of  the  kind ;  though,  at  the 
same  time,  those  specimens  afford  us  reason  to 
conclude,  that  we  should  have  found  in  it  some 
instances  of  refinement,  upon  Aristotle,  at  least,  if 
not  upon  the  truth ;  and  that,  like  many  other  in- 
genious men,  he  would,  now  and  then,  have  trans- 
ferred  his  own  ingenuity  to  his  author.  Something 
of  tliis  refinement,  I  think,  there  is  in  his  ex- 
planation of  Aristotle's  definition  of  Tragedy,  and 
of  tlie  purgation  of  the  passions,  tome  2.  p,  6—35. 
After  considering,  very  attentively,  that,  and  some 
other  explanations,  in  which  he  differs  from  me, 
I  have  not  yet  found  reason  to  alter  my  opinion. 
But,  had  I  seen  this  ingenious  work  in  time,  I 
should  certainly  have  paid  every  attention  due  to 
the  opinions  of  such  a  writer,  by  availing  myself 
of  his  support,  where  we  agree,  and  by  giving  my 
reasons,  where  we  differ. 


TWO 
DISSERTATIONS. 


ON   POETRY   CONSIDERED  AS  AN 
IMITATIVE  ART. 


II. 

ON  THE   DIFFERENT  SENSES  OF  THE 

WORD,   IMITATIVE, 

AS  APPLIED  TO  MUSIC  BY  THE  ANTIENTS, 

AND  BY  THE  MODERNS, 


VOL.  !• 


S 


% 


DISSERTATION    I. 

ON  POETRY  CONSIDERED  AS  AN 
IMITATIVE  ART. 


m^^ 


nr^HE  word  Imitation,  like  many  others,  is 
-*-  used,  sometimes  in  a  strict  and  proper  sense, 
and  sometimes  in  a  sense  more  or  less  extended 
and  improper.  Its  application  to  poetry  is  chiefly 
of  the  latter  kind.  Its  precise  meaning,  therefore, 
when  applied  to  poetry  in  general,  is  by  no  means 
obvious.  No  one  who  has  seen  a  picture  is  at  any 
loss  to  understand  how  painting  is  imitation.  But 
no  man,  I  believe,  ever  heard  or  read,  for  the  first 
time,  that  poetry  is  imitation,  without  being  con- 
scious in  some  degree,  of  that  *'  confusion  of 
thought"  which  an  ingenious  writer  complains 
of  having  felt  whenever  he  has  attempted  to 
explain  the  imitative  nature  of  MuSc*.  It  is  easy 
to  see  whence  this  confusion  arises,  if  we  consider 
the  process  of  the  mind  when  words  thus  extended 
from  their  proper  significations  are  presented  to 
it  We  are  told  that  "  Poetry  is  an  imitative  art/' 

In 

•  Dr,  Beattie,  Essay  on  Poetry,  &c,  ch.  yi.  §  I. 

B  2 


^ 


4  DISSERTATION    I. 

In  order  to  conceive  how  it  is  so,  we  natiirally 
compare  it  with  paintinc;,  sculpture,  and  such  arts 
as  are  strictly  and  clearly  imitative.  But,  in  this 
comparison,  the  difftrtnce  is  so  much  more  obvious 
and  striking  than  the  resaliblance--^^t  see  so  much 
more  readily  in  what  respects  poetry  is  not  pro- 
perly imitation,  than  in  what  respects  it  w;— that 
y  the  mind,  at  last,  is  left  in  that  sort  of  perplexity 
which  m^st  always  arise  from  words  thus  loosely  ^ 
and  analogically  applied,  when  tiie  analogy  is  not 
sufBciently  clear  and  obvious ;  that  is,  when,  of 
that  mixture  of  circumstances,  like  and  unlike, 
which  constitutes  analogy,  the  latter  are  the  most 
apparent. 

In  order  to  understand  the  following  Treatise  on 
Poetry,  in  which  imitation  is  considered  as  the  very 
essence  of  the  art",  it  seems  necessary  to  satisfy 
ourselves,  if  possible,  with  respect  to  two  points; 
I.  In  wliat  senses  the  word  Imitation  is,  or  may 
be,  applied  to  Poetry.  11.  In  what  senses  it  wa$ 
so  applied  by  Aristotle. 

I. 

THE  only  circumstance,  I  think,  common  to 
everything  we  denominate  irnitation,  whether  pro« 
perly  or  improperly,  is  resemblance,  of  some  sort 
or  other. 

In  every  imitation,  strictly  and  properly  so 
^^^*£i^^^^  ^^"l^i!^!^,^^"^  essential  .-—the  resem- 

^, blance 

^  See  the  Second  part  of  this  Dissertation. 


On  Poetfy  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art.  5 

blance^  must  be  immediate ;  i.  e.  between  the 
imtation,  or  imitative  work,  itself^  and  the  object 
imitated  ; — and,  it  must  also  be  obvious.  Thus, 
in  sculpture,  figure  is  represented  by  similar 
figure ;  in  painting,  colour  and  figure,  by  similar 
colour  and  figure;  in  personal  imitation,  or 
mimicry,  voice  and  gesture,  by  similar  voice  and 
gesture.  In  all  these  instances,  the  resemblance 
is  obvious  ;  we  recognize  the  object  imitated :  and 
it  is,  also,  immediate ;  it  lies  in  the  imitative  work, 
or  energy,  itself',  or,  in  other  words,  in  the  very 
materials,  ox  sensible  media\  by  which  the  imitation 
is  conveyed.  All  these  copies,  therefore,  are  called, 
strictly  and  intelligibly,  imitations. 

1 .  The  materials  of  poetic  imitation  are  words^ 
These  may  be  considered  in  two  views ;  as 
sounds  merely,  and  as  sounds  signijicant,  or 
arbitrary  and  conventional  sig?2S  of  ideas.  It  is 
evidently,  in  the  Jii^st  view  only,  that  words  can 
bear  any  real  resemblance  to  the  things  expressed; 
and,  accordinMy,  that  kind  of  imitation  which 
consists  in  the  resemblance  of  words  considered* 
as  mere  sound,  to  the  sounds  and  tnotimis  ot  the 
objects  imitated'',  has  usually  been  assigned  a?  the 
only  instance  in  which  the  term  imitative  is,  in  its 
strict  and  proper  sense,   applicable  to  Poetry*. 

But 


«  Sec  Mr.  Harris's  Treatise  on  Music,  &c.  ch.  i. 

^  Mr.  Harris's  Treaii>e,  &c.  ch.  iii 

*  Mr.  Harris.— Lord  Kaims,  Elements  of  Criticism, 

vol.  ii.  p.  I. 

B  3 


•-•  V 


c\; 


1 1  -^ 


•  "'SSERTATIONI. 

But  setting  aside  all  that  is  the  effect  of  fancy 
and  of  accommodated  pronunciation  in  the  reader, 
to  which,  I  fear,  many  passages,  repeatedly  quoted 
and  admired  as  the  happiest  coincidences  of  sound 
and  sense,  may  be  reduced';  setting  this  aside, 
even  in  such  words,  and  ^uch  arrangements  of 
words,  as  are  actually,  in  so.ne  degree,  analogous 
m  sound  or  motion   to   the    thine  signified   or 
described,  the  resemblance  is  so  faint  and  distant, 
and  of  so  general  and  vague  a  nature,   that  it 
would  never,  of  Hstlf  lead  us  to  recognize  the 
object  imitated.    We  discover  not  the  likentss  till 
M-e  know  the  meamng.   The  natural  relation  of 
the  word  to  the  thing  signified,  is  pointed  out  only 
by  us  arbitrary  or  conventional  relatiou^— I  do 

not 


The  reader  may  see  this  sufficiently  proved  by 
L>r.  Johnson  in  his  Lives  of  the  Poets,  vol  iv.p.,83  iv« 
and  .„  the  Ranibler,  N-ga.  ..  J„  such  resemblances,"' 
as  he  well  observes,  '<  the  mind  often  governs  the 
ear,  and  the  sounds  are  estimated  by  their  .neanine." 
See  also  Lord  Kaims,  El.  oi  Crit.  vol.  ii.  p.  84,  85. 

«  See  Harris  on  Music,  &c.  cIi.  iii.  &  ,,  2.     This 
verse  of  Virgil, 

Stridenti  miscrum  stipuia  disperdere  carmen- 
is  commonly  cited  as  an  example  of  this  sort  of  imitation. 
I  question,  however,  whether  this  line  would  have  been 
remarked  by  any  one  as  particularly  ha.sh,  if  a  harsh 
sound  had  not  been  described  in  u.  At  least,  many 
verses  full  as  harshly  constructed  might,  I  believe,  b^ 

A 

produced. 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art.  7 

not  here  mean  to  deny  that  such  resemblances, 
however  slight  and  delicate  where  they  really  are, 
and  however  liable  to  be  discovered  by  fancy 
where  they  are  not,   are  yet  a  source  of  real 

beauties, 


produced,  in  which  no  such  imitation  can  be  supposed. 
But,  even  admitting  that  such  imitation  was  here  intended, 
it  seems  to  me  ahnost  ridiculous  to  talk  of  the  "  natural 
"  relation  between  the  sound  of  this  verse,  and  that  of  a 
«  vile  hautboy r  [Harris,  in  the  chapter  above  referred  to.] 
All  that  can  be  said  is,  that  the  sounds  arc,  both  of  them, 
harsh  sounds ;   but,  certainly  no  one  species  of  harsh 
sound  can  well  be  more  unlike  another,  than  the  sound 
of  a  rough  verse  is  to  the  tone  of  a  bad  hautboy,  or, 
indeed,  of  any  other  musical  instrument. — That,  in  the 
clearest  and  most  acknowledged  instances  of  such  imitative 
vocal  sound,  the  resemblance  is,  or  can  possibly  be,  so 
exact  as  to  lead  a  person  unacquainted  with  the  language, 
hy  the  sound  alone y  to  the  signification^  no  man  in  his  senses 
would  assert.    Yet  Dr.  Beattie,  in  a  note,  p.  304,  of  his 
Essay  on  Poetry,  &c.  by  a  mistake  for  which  I  am  at  a 
loss  to  account,  has  ascribed  so  extravagant  a  notion  to 
Rousseau.  **  There  is  in  Tasso's  Gierusalemme  Liberata, 
"  a  famous  stanza,  of  which  Rousseau  says,  that  a  good 
«<  ear  and  sincere  heart  are  alone  able  to  judge  of  //j" 
meaning,  as  appears  from  wh^^t  follows,  of  its  sense ;  for 
he  adds,  **  The  imitative  harmony  and  the  poetry  are 
"  indeed  admirable ;  but  I  doubt  whether  a  person  who 
«*  understands  neither  Italian  nor  Latin^  could  even  guess  at 
"  the  meaning  from  the  sound '^     There  cap  be  no  room 
for  doubt  in  this  matter; — he  certainly  could  not :  nor 
does  Rousseau  appear  to  have  even  hinted  the  possibility 
of  such  a  thing.    The  passage  is  in  his  admirable  Letter 
•  B  4  ^«^ 


•   ( 


*      .  fSSERTATIONt." 

beauties,  of  beauties  actually  fdt  by  the  reader 
when  they  arise,  or  appear  to  arise,  spontaneously 
from  the  poets  feeling,  and  their  effect  Js  not 
counteracted  by  tlie  obviousness  of  cool  intention 
and  deliberate  artifice  \  Nor  do  I  mean  to  object 

to 


Sur  la  Musique  Franpht ;  where,  in  order  to  obviate  the 
prejudices  of  those  who  regard  the  Italian  language  as 
^holly  soft.and  effemir^fe.  he  produces  two  stanzas  of 
i  asso,  the  one  as  an  example  of  a  sweet  and  tender,  the 
other  of  a  forcible  and  nervous,  combination  of  sounds  • 
•nd  he  adds,  that  to  judge  oi  thh,  i.  e.  of  the  sound  only, 
nofthe  seme,  of  the  srarzas,  and  also  of  the  impossibility 
of  rendarmg  a.lcquately  th<*^weetness  of  the  one,  or  the 
force  of  the  bther.  in  the  French  language,  «'  it  is  not 
necessary  to  understajid  Italian-it  is  sufficient  that  we 
"  have  an  ear,  and  are.in:part;air—.<  Que  ceux  qui 
«  pensent  que  Htalien  n'est  que  le  langage  de  la  douceur 
«  et.de  la  ten<Iresse.  prenp.cnt  la  peine  de  comparer  entre 
"  elk,  ces  deux  strophes  <lu  Tasse  :_et  s'ils  desesperent 
«  de  rendre  en  Frangois'la  deuce  harmonie  dc  Tune,  qu'ils 
"  essayentd'exprjmerlara/j^^^wrrt/del'autre:  il  n'est 
*'  pas  besoin  pourjuger  de  ccci  d'entendre  la  lancue,  il  ne 
«  faut  qu-  avoir  dcs  creillcs  &  de  la  bonne foi." 

*  I  am  persuaded  ihatn^nyvery  beautiful  and  striking 
passages  of  this  kiad  in  the  best  p„ets  were  solely  f„„«, 

i»n,,  as  ,t  is  well  expr,»ed  by  Dion.  Hal.  n,^.  cr^v^e^.^j, 
§  20.  But  the  Critic  is  always  too  ready  to  transfer  his 
own  redaction  to  the  Poet ;  and  to  consider^ the  ,/,m 
Of  art,  all  thpse  jponianeous  strokes  of  -  's -which 
become  the  causes  of  art  b,  his  calm  ol.  tion  and 
^  discussion. 


< 


r 


On  Poetry  comidered  as  an  Imitattve  Art.  ^  9 
to  this  application  of  the  word  mitative.  My 
purpose  is  merely  to  shew,  that  when  we  call  this 
kind  of  resc^lanco,  imitation,  we  do  not  use  the 
word   in  \\jFstrict  sense— that,  in  which  it  is 

-  applied 


discussioii.  Scarce  any  poet  has,  I  think,  so  many 
beiuties  of  v  this  kind,  fairly  produced  by  strength  of 
imagination,  and  delicacy  of  ear,  as  Virgil.  Yet  there 
are  some  verses  frequendy  cited  as  fine  examples  in  this 
-way,  which  appear  to    me   too  visibly  artificial  to  be 

pleasing  :  such  as * 

Quadrupedante  putrem  sonituquatit  ungulacampum. 

I  am  tempted  to  add  to  this  note  a  passage  from  the  first 
dissertation  prefixed  to  the  iEneid  by  that  excellent  editor, 
C.  G.  Heyne  ;-4  man  who  has  honourably  distinguished 
himself  from  the  herd  of  commentators,  by  such  a  degree 
of  taste  and  philosophy  as  we  do  not  often  find  united  with 
laborious   and   accurate    erudition.      Sneaking   of   the 
charms  of  Virgil'si^ersihcation,  he  says,  ''  Illud  uhum 
"  monebimus,  in  errorem  inducere  juvenilem  animum 
"  videri  eos  qui  nimii  in  eo  sunt,  ut  ad  rerum  sonos  et 
*<  jlaturas  accommolair^s  ci  formatos  velint  esse  versus. 
"   Equidem  nt)n  diffiteor  sensum  animi  me  refragantem 
'*''  habere,  quotiescunque  pcrsuadere  mihi  volo,  magnum 
**  aliquem   poetam   aestu   tantarum   rerum  abreptum  et 
*'  magnorum    phaiuasmatum    vi  inflammatum^  in  ions 
<*  cwsus  equestris  vel  tftbae  vel  aliarum  rerum  reddendo 
«  laborare ;  attenuat  ea  res  et  deprimit  ingenium  poetae 
«  et  arris    dignitatem.     Sunt  tamen^  ais,  tales  versus  in 
/«  optimo^poqu^-pocta.      Recte;  sunt  utique    muiti  ; 
etsi  plurcs  alios  ad  hoc  lusus  genus  accommodare  solet 
corum  ingenium  qui  talibus  rebus  indulgent.  Sed  mihi 

*^  ad 


4t 


4 


lO 


DISSERTATION    I. 


applied  to  a  picture,  or  a  statue.     Of  the  tw« 
conditions  above  mentioned,  it  wants  that  which 
must  be  regaided  as  mobt  essential.    The  resem- 
blance  is.  indeed,  real,  as  far  cs  it  goes,  and  im- 
mediate ;  but,  necessarily,  from  its  generaluu,  so 
iniperlect,  that  even  uhen  pointed  out  by  die  seme 
It  IS  by  no  means  always  obvious,  and  without  that' 
cannot  possibly  lead  to  any  thing  like  a  clear  and 
certain  recognition  of  the  particular  object  imi- 
tated  .  1  must  observe  farther,  that  this  kind  of 

imitation, 

^  adpoetices  indolcm  propius  esse  vidctur  statu  ere,  ;W;« 
^^  ora.on.  naturam  ita  esse  comparat^n,,  ut  multarum 
,^  '""""^  '°"°^  ^'^P^^"^^^  >  inflainmatum  autem  phantas- 
^^  matum  specie  objecta  animum,  cum  rerum  species  sibi 
^^  obversantes  ut  orationevhide  exprimat  laborat,  necessarh 
^^  /«  :sta  vocabula  incidere,  vel  oratlonh  proprietate  ducente. 
^^  Ita  graves  et  celeres,  lenes  ac  dufos  sonos,  .../  non  id 
^  agem  et  curans,   ad  rerum    naturam    accommodabit    ^ 

et  orator    quisque   bonus,   et   multo  magis  pocta." 
[Heync's  Virgil,  vol.  ii.  p.  39.]  # 

[  The   causes    of  this   imperfection   are   accuratelr 
pomted  out  by  Mr.  Harris ;   i.  The  "  natural  sounds  and 
motions  .hich  Poetry  thus  imitates,  are  themselves 
but  /....  and   indefinite  accidents  of  those  subjects  to 
which  they  belong,  and   consequently  do  but  /cose/y 
-  and  :ndejinite/y  characterise  them.     2.  Poetic  sounds 
«  and  motions  dobut>W^  resemble  thgse  of  nature. 
^hich  are  t/^emse/ves  confessed  to  be  so  imperfect  and 
"  vaguer    [Treatise  on  Music,  &c.  c/i.  iii.  5  2.    Sec 

also 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art,  1 1 

imitation,  even  su|)posing  it  much  more  |)erfect, 
is,  by  no  means,  that  wliich  would  be  likely  first 
to  occur  to  any  one,  in  an  enquiry  concerning  the 
nature  of  the  imitation  attributed  to  Poetry,  were 
it  not,  that  tlie  circumstance  of  its  real  and  imrne* 
diate  resemblance,  has  occasioned  its  being  con- 
sidered, I  think  not  justly,  as  the  strictest  sense 
of  the  term  so  applied. 

For  the  most  usual,  and  the  most  important 
senses,  and  even,  as  w  ill  perhaps  appr  ar,  for  the 
strictest  sense,  in  which  Poetry  has  been,  or  may 

be. 


also  ch.  ii.  §  3.]     The  following  is  a  famous  imitative 
line  of  Boileau : 

S'en  va  frappcr  le  mur,  &  revlent  en  roulant. 

If  this  line  were  read  to  any   one   ignorant   of  the 
language,  he  would  be  so  far  from  guessing  ivhat  was 
imitated,  that  it  wowld  not,  I  believe,  occur  to  him  that 
anything  was  imitated  at  all ;    unless,  indeed,  the  idea 
were  forced  upon  his  mind  by  the  pronuntiation  of  the 
reader.    Now,  suppose  him -to  understand  French  : — as 
the  circumstance  of  rolling  is  mentioned  in  the  line,  he 
might  possibly  notice  the  etfect  of  the  ktter  R,  and 
think  the  poet  intended  to  express  the  noise  of  something 
that  rolled.   And  this  is  all^the  real  resemblance  that  can 
be  discovered  in  this  verse :  a  resemblance,  and  that  too, 
but  distant  and  imperfect,  in  the  sound  of  a  letter  to  the 
sound  of  rolling  in  general.     For  anything  beyond  this, 
we  must  trust  to  our  imagination,  assisted  by  the  com- 
mentator, who  assures  us,  that  the  poet  **  a  cherchc  a 
**  imiter  par   le   son   des    mots,  le  bruit  que  fait  UNE 
"  ASSi£TT£  en  roulant.'*    Sat,\\\,  v,  216. 


tt 


DtS  SE  RTATION    I, 


I 


be,  understood  to  imitate,  we  must  have  recourse 
to   language  considered  in   its  most   i„,portant 
point  of  vieiv,  as  composed,  not  of  sounds  merely 
but  of  sounds  significant. 

2.  The  most  general  and  extensive  of  these 
senses,   is  that  in   which  it  is  applied  to   de- 
scR.PTroN,  comprehending,  not  only  that  poetic 
landscape-painting   which  is    pccunarly   called 
descriptive  Poetry,    but  ail  such   circumstantial 
and  distinct  representation  as  conveys  to  the  mind 
a  strong  and  clear  idea  of  its  object,  whether 
sensible  or  mental\     Poetry,  i„   this  view,   is 

naturally 


"  Nothing  is  more  common  than  this  application  of 
the  word  to  description;    though  the  writers  who  so 
apply  .t  have  not  always  explained  the  ground  of  the 
apphcatton,  or  pointed  out  those  precise  properties  of 
descnption  which  entitle  it  to  be  considered  as  imitation. 
Mr.  Addison  makes  use  oUescripiion  as  a  general  term, 
comprehending    all    poetic   imitation,   or  imitation    by 
language,   as  opposed   lo  that   of  painting,   &c.     Sec 
Specmor  N»4i6.     1.  C.  Scaliger.  ihouuh  he  extended 
wuiauon  to  speech    in  general,    [see  Part  II.  Note'.] 
M  not  overlook   the  circumstances  which  render  de- 
scription peculiarly  imitative.     He  says,  with  his  usual 
spirit,   speaking  of  poetic    or  verbal    imitation,—"  At 
"  imitatio  non  uno  modo  ;  quando  nc  ns  quidein.   Alia 
"  namqie  est  simpL-x  dcs.gvatio^  ut,  jE«eas  pugnat :    alia 
•'  modos  ^M^t  a  circumstantms ;  verbi  gratia— cr«<,/«i, /« 
«  cquo,  Ira-.us.    J^m  hic  est  pugnantis  etian,  faces,  non 
"  solum  actio.    Ita  adjuncts  circumitantite,  loci,  affect^, 

"  tccasionis, 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art.  13 

naturally  considered  as  more  or  less  imitative,  in 
proportion  as  it  is  capable  of  raising  an  ideal 
i??iagc  or  picture,  more  or  less  resembling  the 
reality  of  things.  The  more  distinct  and  vivid 
the  ideas  are  of  which  this  picture  is  composed, 
and  the  more  closely  they  correspond  to  the  actual 
imprcmom  received  from  nature,  the  stronger 
will  be  the  resemblance,  and  the  more  perfect 

the  imitation. 

Hence  it  is  evident  that,  of  all  description, 
that  of  visible  objects  will  be  the  most  iuiitaiive, 
the  ideas  of  such  objects  being  of  all  others,  the 
most  distinct  and  vivid.  That  such  description, 
therefore,  should  have  been  called  imitaliou,  can 
be  no  wonder ;  and,  indeed,  of  all  the  extended 
or  analogical  applications  of  the  word,  this  is,, 
perhaps,  the  most  obvious  and  natural  ^  There 
needs  no  other  proof  of  this  than  the  very 
language  in  which  we  are  naturally  led  to  express 
our  admiration  of  this  kind  of  poetry,  and  which 


X 


♦ 


we 


«'  occasionisj  &c.  pleniorem  adhuc  atque  torosioretn  effi- 
•«  Ciunt  IMITATIONEM."  [Poet.  lib.  Mil,  cap.  2.']  Wc 
must  not,  however,  confound  imitative  description  with 
such  description  as  is  merely  an  enumeration  o{  parts. 
See  wo/^f",  Second  part  of  this  Dissertation. 

*  Ta  h  OI'EI  yvwfi/ita,  3ta  'SJOinriKt);  s^/u.miaf  sf^pamrat 
MIMHTIKUTEPON-  biOVy  xvfxaTuv  c^^Fi5^  ^^  ToiroQsaiaty  km 
fiaxcch  fuu  'SS£piTa7£i;  nza^m'  wrc    o-vv^uzti^sjQm  rag  ^vx^ 

Toii  Hh<n  Tuv  cLTTciryi^i^yuv,  as  aparaENOis.   Ptoi. 

Harmon.  3.  3. 


\ 


1'» 


..-,=7«5;iS,»^',v,i*W^itl?Sii,r^«S*'l%'.  . 


r  - 


'4  15  ISSERTATION    I. 

we  perpetually  borrow  from  the  arts  of  strict 
imitation.  We  say  the  poet  has  painted  his 
object ;  we  talk  of  his  imagery,  of  the  lively 
colours  of  his  description,  and  the  masterly 
touches  of  his  peticil  ™ 

The 


"It  cannot  be  necessary  to  produce  examples  of  this. 
They  are  to  be  found  in  almost  every  page  of  every 
writer  on  the  subject  of  poetry.  The  reader  may  see 
Dr.  Kurd's  Discourse  on  Poetical  Imitation,  p.  lo,  &b. 
—Dr.  Beattie's  Essay  on  Poetry  and  Music,  p  97,' 
(Ed.  8vo.)  and  the  note.—Dr.  Warton  on  Pope,  vol.  1!' 
0  P't^\45;  vol.  ii.  223,  227.— Lord  Kaims,  Elem.  of 
Criticism,  vol.  ii.  p.  326. 

Nor  is  this  manner  of  speaking  peculiar  to  modern 
writers,    (pt^t  «v,  says  ^lian,  introducing  his  description 
of   the  Vale   of  Tempe  :    nai  ra  na'K^^^a  T.^t.,    t« 
e£TTaAi*a,   AIAFPA^XIMEN   to,    xoyo,,   no,   AIAIIAAX- 
XIMEN.    And  he  adds,  as  in  justification  of  these  ex- 
pressions,    i^-^rfvou    ya^    xai  0  Aoy^,    kav    ixn    ^uvofxif 
ippafijcnvy   fx.nhv   ourGmrEpov   oa-a  ^sArrox    AEIKNTNAI   rut 
oyTpcv  Twv  xara  x^^papytav  ^Lvav,     Hist.  Far.  lib,  iii.  cap,  i. 
Ilence,  also,  the  saying  of  Simonides,  so  often  repeated,* 
that  **  a  picture  is  a  silent  poem,  and  a  poem  a  speaking 
"  picture."    Lucian,  in  that  agreeable  delineation  of  a 
beautiful    and   accomplished    woman,   his   EIKONEr, 
ranks  the  descriptive  poet  with   the   painter   and   thJ 
sculptor     TOLurx  fAiv  «v  nAASTHN  mcu   rPA^EHN  ho, 
nOIHTHN  's^^^si  ipyacrovrat.     Homer,  he  denominates, 
rov  a^'iroy  TON  FPAMON,  «  the  best  of  painters  ;" 
and  calls  upon  him,  even  in  preference  to  Polygnotus, 
ApeUes,  and  the  most  eminent  artists,  to  paint   the 

charms 


•( 


l/AJUyi^^ 


/ 


y 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art.  15 

The  objects  of  our  other  senses  fall  less  within 
the  power  of  description,  in .  proportion  as  the 
ideas  of  tliose  objects  are  more  simple,  more 
fleeting,  and  less  distinct,  than  those  of  sight. 
The  description  of  such  objects  is,  therefore, 
called  with  less  propriety  imitation  °. 

Next  to  visible  objects,  sounds  seem  the  most 
capable  of  descriptive  imitation.  Sucii  descrip- 
tion is,  indeed,  generally  aided  by  real,  diough 
imperfect,  resemblance  of  verbal  sound ;  more, 
or  less,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  language, 
and  the  delicacy  of  the  poet's  ear.  The  following 
lines  of  Virgil  are,  I  think,  an  instance  of  this. 

Lamentis  gemituque  et  foemineo  ululatu 
Tecia  fremunt,  resonat  magnis  plangoribus  aether. 

Mn.  iv.  663. 

But  we  are  not,  now,  considering  this  imme- 
diate imitation  of  sound  by  sound,  but  such  only 
as  is  merely  descriptive,  and  operates,  like  the 
description  of  visible  objects,  only  by  the  meaiiing 
of  tlie  words.  Now  if  we  are  allowed  to  call 
description  of  visible  objects,  imitation,  when  it 

is 

charms  of  his  Panthea.  See  also  the  treatise  Flefi  t»j; 
OMHPOT  9ro<>icr£a)f,  towards  the  end.  (Et  Je  xai  Zuy^oc^ux^ 
Ji3acr»taXov  O/loi^ 01/  ^oun  ri^ — k.  t.  oXX. ) 

■  One  obvious  reason  of  this  is,  the  want  of  that 
natural  association  just  Remarked,  with  paintings  (the 
most  striking  of  the  strictly  imitative  arts,)  which  is 
peculiar  to  the  description  o(  visible  objects. 


'^  1>ISSERTATI0NI, 

is  such  that  western  to  see  the  object,  I  know  of 
no   reason  why  viem<iy  not  ai.>.o  consider  sounds 
as  imitated?,  when  they  are  so  describ(>d  that  ne 
seem  to  hear  them.     It  would  not  he  difficult  to 
produce  from  the  best  poets,  and  even  from  prose- 
writers  of  a  strong  and  poetical  iuja^in^ition,  uiany 
instances  of  sound  so  imitated,     l^hose  readers 
who  are  both  poetical  and  musical  will,  I  l>elieve, 
excuse   my  dwelling  a  moment  upon  a  subject 
which  has  not,  as  far  as  I  know,  been  much  con- 
sidered. 

Of  our  own  poets  I  do  not  recollect  any  who 
have  presented  musical  ideas  with  such  feeling, ' 
force,  and  reality  of  description,  as  Milton,  at# 
Mr.  Mason.    When  Milton  speaks  of 

-     -     -    Notes  with  many  a  winding  bout 
Of  linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out. 

L^  Allegro. 

And  of—"  a  soft  and  solemn-breathing  sound," 

that 

♦ 

Rose  like  a  steam  of  rich  distill'd  perfumes, 
And  stole  upon  the  air.  CoLus. 

M^ho, 


VQtfifMta.  Treatise  de  Horn,  Poes,  loco  cito. 

9  Lucian,  in  his  Imagines,  just  now  cited,  has  very 
happily  described  a  fine  female  voice;  and  he  calls  the 
description,  somewhat  boldly,  xsc^^.mai  *a<  ^h^  ElKHN. 
Tom,  11. ;».  13.  Ed,  Bened,  lia^  ii  0  toj/®-  r«  0tyfjiar&'. 
"'-ft.  T.  aK- ■ 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art,  17 

Who,  that  has  a  triily  musical  ear,  will  refuse 
to  consider  such  description  as,  in  some  sort, 
imitative^? 

In  the  same  spirit  both  of  Poetry  and  of 
Music  are  these  beautiful  lines  in  Caractacus, 
addressed  by  the  Chorus  to  the  Bards : 

-     -    -  Wond'rous  men ! 
Ye,  whose  skill'd  fingers  know  how  best  to  lead, 
Through  all  the  maze  of  sound,  the  wayward  step 
Of  Harmony,  recalling  oft,  and  oft 
Permitting  her  unbridled  course  to  rush 
Through  dissonance  to  concord,,  sweetest  then 
Ev'n  when  expected  harshest.  -     -     - 

It  seems  scarce  possible  to  convey  with  greater 
clearness  to  the  ear  of  imagination  the  effect  of 
an  artful  and  well-conducted  harmony ;  of  that 
free  and  varied  range  of  modulation,  in  which  the 
ear  is  ever  wandering,  yet  never  lost,  and  of  that 
masterly  and  bold  intertexture  of  discord,  which 
leads  the  sense  to  pleasure,  through  paths  that  lie 
close  upon  the  very  verge  of  pain. 

The  general  ^nd  confused  effect  of  complex 
and  aggregated  sound  may  be  said  to  be  de- 
scribedy  when  the  most  striking  and  characteristic 
of  the  single  sounds  of  which  it  is  compounded 
are  selected  and  enumerated;  just  as  single 
sounds  are  described  (and  they  can  be  described 

no 


mt 


^  See  also  11  Penseroso,  i6i — 166, 
VOL.    I.  C 


■,M^7S^mmms:^p^-r  ■-  ■  ^^.^tw,.. 


'8  I>ISSERTATlONI. 

no  Otherwise)  by  tJ^e  selection  of  tlieir  principal 
(jualities,  or  modificatiom.—l  cannot  produce  a 
finer  example  of  this  than  tiie  following  admirable 
passage  of  Dante,  in  which,  with  a  force  of  re- 
presentation peculiar  to  himself  in  such  subjects, 
he  describes  the  mingled  terrors  of  those  distant 
sounds  that  struck  his  ear  as  he  entered  tlie  gates 
of  his  imaginary  Inferno ;— *^  si  mise  dentro  alle 
"  segrete  cose." — 

Quivi  sospiri,  pianti,  ed  alti  guai 
Risonavan  per  Taer  senza  stelle ; 

Diverse  lingue,  orribili  favelle, 
Parole  di  dolore,  accenti  d'ira, 
Voci  alte  fioche,  e  suon  di  man  con  elle. 

Ififernoy  Canto  iii. 

The  reader  may  be  glad  to  relieve  his  imagi- 
nation from  the  terrible  ENAPFEIA  of  this  de- 
scription, by  turning  his  ear  to  a  far  different 
combination  of  sounds;— to  the  charming  de- 
scription of  "  the  melodies  of  morn,"  in  the 
Minstrel\  or  of  the  melodies  of  evening  in  the 
Desalted  Village : 

Sweet  was  the  sound,  when  oft  at  evening's  close 
Up  yonder  hill  the  village  murmur  rose. 
There  as  I  past  with  careless  steps  and  slow, 
The  mingling  notes  came  soften'd  from  below; 

The 


I  Book  I.    Stanzas  40,  41. 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art.  ig 

The  swain  responsive  as  the  milk-maid  sung, 
The  sober  herd  that  low'd  to  meet  their  young; 
The  noisy  geese  that  gabbled  o  er  the  pool, 
The  playful  children  just  let  loose  from  school; 
The  watch-dog's  voice  that  bay'd  the  whispVing 
wind,  [mind. 

And  the  loud  laugh   that   spoke   the   vacant 
These  all  in  soft  confusion  sought  the  shade. 
And  fiU'd  each  pause  the  nightingale  had  made'. 

But 

•  The  following  Stanza  of  Spenser  has  been  much 
admired : 

The  joyous  birdes,  shrouded  in  cheareful  shade. 
Their  notes  unto  the  voice  attemprcd  sweet, 
Th'  angelical  soft  trembling  voices  made 
To  th'  instruments  divine,  respondence  meet ; 
The  silver-sounding  instruments  did  meet 
With  the  base  murmur  of  the  water's  fall ; 
The  water*s  fall  with  difference  discreet 
Now  soft,  now  loud,  unto  the  wind  did  call ; 
The  gende  warbling  wind  low  answered  to  all. 

Fairy  Queen,  Book  ii.  Canto  12,  Stanza  71, 

Dr.  Warton  says  of  these  lines,  that  they  *<  are  of 
*'  themselves  a  complete  concert  of  the  most  delicious 
**  music.*'  It  is  unwillingly  that  I  differ  fr^m  a  person 
of  so  much  taste.  I  cannot  consider  as  Music,  much 
less  as  **  delicious  music,"  a  mixture  of  incompatible 
sounds,  if  I  may  so  call  thein— of  sounds  musical  with 
sounds  unmusical.  The  singing  of  birds  cannot  possibly 
be  '*  attempred  "  to  the  not^s  of  a  human  voice.     The 

c  2  .  mixture 


20 


DISSERTATION    I. 


But  migk  rounds  may  also  be  so  described  or 
characterized  as  to  produce  a  secondary  per- 
ception, of  sufficient  clearness  to  deserve  the 
name  of  imitation.  It  is  thus  that  we  hear  the 
''  far-off  Curfeu"  of  Milton; 


Over  some  wide-watefd  shore 
Swbging  slow  with  sullen  roar'. 


And 


mixture  is,  and  must  be,  disagreeable.     To  a  person 
listening  to  a  concert  of  voices  and  instruments,  the  in- 
terraption  of  shging^ir^s,  wind^  and  waterfalls^  would 
be  little  better  than  the  torment  of  Hoganh's  enraged 
fnusician.—Farther-th^  description  itself  is,  like  too 
many  of  Spenser's,  coldly  elaborate,  and  indiscriminately 
mmute.     Of  the  expressions,  some  are  feeble  and  with- 
out effect-as,  ^'j^yom  birds  i"  some  evidently  improper 
—as,  «  trembling  voices/'  and  *'  cheareful  shade  ;"  for 
there  cannot  be  a  greater  fault  in  a  voice  than  to  be 
tremulous ;  and  cheareful  is  surely  an  unhappy  epithet 
applied  to  shade;  some  cold  and  laboured,  and  such  as 
betray  too  plainly  the  nccetslties  of  rhyme ;  such  is, 

"  The  water's  fall  with  difference  discreetr 


«  The  reader  who  conceives  the  word  *'  $wing\ng^^ 
lo  be  merely  descriptive  of  motion,  will  be  far,  I  think, 
from  feeling  the  whole  force  of  this  passage.  They  who 
are  accustomed  to  attend  to  sounds,  will,  I  believe,  agree 
with  me>  that  the  sound,  in  this  case,  is  affected  by  the 
motion,  and  that  the  swing  of  a  bell  is  actually  heard  in  its 
ione^  which  is  different  from  what  it  would  be  if  the  same 
beU  were  struck  with  the  same  force,  but  at  rest.  The 
experiment  may  be  easily  made  with  a  small  hand-belJ. 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art,  21 

And  Mr.  Mason's  ''  Bell  of  Death,"  that 
-  —  pauses  now ;  and  now  with  rising  knell 
Flings  to  the  hollow  gale  its  sullen  soand. 

Elegy  iii. 

I  do  not  know  a  happier  descriptive  line  in 
Homer  than  the  following,  in  his  simile  of  the 
nightingale : 

That  which  is  peculiar  in  the  singing  of  this 
bird,  the  variety,  richness,  flexibility,  and  liquid 
volubility  of  its  notes,  cannot  well  be  more 
strongly  characterized,  more  audibly  presented  to 
the  mind,  than  by  the  sroXMnyjLot^y  the  ;)^£ii,  and^ 
above  all,  the  9a/xa  r^unua-oiy  of  tb  s  short  de- 
scription"^.    But,  to  return — 

I  men- 


»  Odyssey,  T.  521.  1  am  surprised  at  Ernestus'^ 
interpretation  of  r^w^ua-a ;  i.  e.  '*  de  luscinia  inter 
canendum  se  vcrsante -y*  [Index  to  his  Homer]  by 
which  the  greatest  beauty  of  the  description  would  be 
lost ;  and  lost  without  necessity :  for  the  natural  con- 
struction is  that  which  Hesychius  gives :  Tfw^wcra — 
Tf£9r8(ra  THN  OHNHN. 

"^  Not  a  single  beauty  of  this  line  is  preserved  in 
Mr.  Pope's  translation.  The  x««>  ''pours  her  voice,"  is 
entirely  dropt ;  and  the  strong  and  rich  expression,  in 
fiofxa  T^uTTUiTay  and  -aroXz/TixEa,  is  diluted  into  ''varied 
strains."  [Book  xfx.  607.]  For  the  particular  ideas  of  a 
variety  of  quick  turns  and  inflexions  [^aixa  T^uvma]  and 
a  variety  of  tonesy  [wo^wixfa]  the  translator  has  substituted 

c  3  the 


2t 


DISSERTATION     I, 


I  mentioned  also,  description  of  mcNtal  objects  ; 
of  the  emotions,  passions,  and  other  internal 
movements  and  operations  of  the  mind.  Such 
objects  may  be  described,  either^^-ZmmTiff^?^  as 
they  affect  the  mind,  or  through  their  e^rterml 
and  sensible  effects.  Let  us  take  the  passion  of 
Dido  for  an  instance  : 

At  regina  gravi  jamdudum  saucia  cura 
Vulnus  alit  venis,  et  coeco  carpitur  itmi,  &c. 

jEneid  iv.  i. 

This  is  iwwe^i^?/e  description.— But  when  Dido 

Incipit  effari,  medi^que  in  voce  resistit  ; 
Nunc  eadem,  labente  die,  convivia  quarit, 
Iliacosque  iterum,  demens,  audire  labores 
Exposcit,  pendetque  iterum  narrantis  ab  ore. 
Post,  ubi  digressi,  lumenque  obscura  vicissim 
Luna  premit,  suadentque  cadentia  sidera  somoos, 
Sola  domo  moeret  vacud,  stratisque  relictis 
Incubat     -     -     .     . 

—here,  the  passion  is  described,  and  most  exqui- 
sitely,  by  its  sensibkeffxcts.  This,  indeed,  may 
be  considered  as  falling  u^r  the  former  kind  of 
descriptive 

the  general,  and  therefore  weak  idea,  of  variety  in  the 
abstract— of  a  song  or  *'  strains"  simply  varied.  The 
reader  may  see  this  subject— the  importance  of  >^r//W^r 
and  determinate  ideas  to  the  force  and  beauty  of  dc- 
A  scription— admirably  illustrated  in  the  Discourse  ^ 
I'oaical  Imitation.  [Hurd's  Horace,  vol.  iii.  p.  15—19.] 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art.  23 

descriptive(imitation^that    of  sensible   objects. 
There  is  this  difference,  however,  between  the 
descriptioD  of  a  sensible  object,  and  the  descrip- 
tion of  a  meiital — of  any  passion  for  example — 
through  that  of  a  sensible  object,  that,  in  tte 
former,  the  description  is  considered  as  terminating 
in  the  clear  and  distinct  representation  of  the 
sensible  object,  the  landscape,  the  attitude,  the 
sound,  &c. :    whereas  in  the  other,  the  sensible 
exhibitition   is    only,  or   chiefly,  the   means  of 
effecting  that  which  is  the  principal  end  of  such 
description— the  emotion,  of  whatever  kind,  that 
arises  from  a  strong  conception  of  the  passion 
itself.    The  image  carries  us  on  forcibly  to  the 
feehog  of  its  internal  cause.     When  this  first 
effect  is  once  produced,  we  may,  indeed,  return 
from  it  to  the  calmer  pleasure,  of  contemplating 
the  imagery  itself  with  a  painter's  eye. 

It  is  undoubtedly,  this  description  of  passions 
and  emotions,  by  their  sensible  effects,  that  prin- 
cipally deserves  the  name  ofjniitative;  and  it  is 
a  great  and  fertile  source  of  some  of  the  highest 
and  most  Jouching  beauties  of  poetry ^J  With 
respect  to  immediate  descriptions  of  this  kind, 
Ihey  are  from  their  very  nature,  far  more  weak 
and  indistinct,  and  do  not,  perhaps,  often  possess 
that  degree  of  forcible  representation  that  amounts 

to 


y  See  the  Discourse  on  Poetical  Imitation,  of  Dr. 
Hurd,  p.  39,  &C. 

C  4 


H 


DISSERTATION    r. 


to  what  we  call  imkative  description.— But  here 
some  distinctions  seem  necessary.     In  a  strict 
and    philosophical   view,   a    singk    passion   or 
emotion  does  not  adnut  of  description  at  all 
Considered  in  itself,  it  is  a  simple  internal  feeling 
and,  as  such,  can  no  more  be  described,  than  a 
simple  Idea  can  be  dejined.     It  can  be  described 
no  otherwise  than  in  its  efects,  of  sot,^  kind  or 
other.     But  the  effects  of  a  passion  are  of  two 
kinds,  internal  and  esfernal.     Now,  popularly 
speaking,   by  t/>e  passion  of  love,  for  example 
*e  mean  the  whole  operation  of  that   passion 
upon    the    m„d~,ye    include   all* its  internal 
workings;    and  when  it  is   described  in    these 
internal   and  invisible  effects  only,  we  consider 
It  as  immediately  described ;  these  internal  effects 
being  included  in  our  general  idea  of  the  passion 
Mental  objects,  then,  admit  of  immediate  de- 
scription, only  when  they  are,  more  or  less,  com- 
plex ;    and  such  description  may  be  considered 
as  more  or  less  imitative,  in  proportion  as  its 
impression  on  the  mind  approaches  more  or  less 
closely  to  the  real  impression  of  the  passion  or 

en^otion  itself. Thus,  in  the  passage  above 

referred  to  as  an  instance  of  such  immediate 
description,  the  mental  object  described  is  a 
.  complex  object-the  passion  of  love,  including 
some  of  its  internal  effects;  that  is,  some  other 
passions  or  feelings  which  it  excites,  or  with  which 
it  is  accompanied ; 

At 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art,  25 

At  regina  gravi  jamdudum  saucia  ciir& 
Vulnus  alit  venis,  et  coeco  carpitur  igni. 
Multa  viri  virtus  animo,  multu^que  recursat 
Gentis  honos  :  haerent  infixi  pectore  vultus, 
Verbaque :  nee  plaeidam  niembris  dat  cura 
quietem.  ^n.  iv.  imtio. 

Reduce  this  passage  to  the  mere  mention  of 
the  passion  itself- — the  simple  feeling  or  emotion 
of  love^  ill  the  precise  and  strict  acceptation  of 

-II 

the  word,  abstractedly  from  its  concomitant 
effects,  it  iSHl  not  even  be  description^  much  less 
imitative  descnption.  It  will  be  mere  attribution, 
or  predication.  It  will  say  only — *^  Dido  was 
in  love." 

Thus,  again,  a  complication  of  different  pas- 
sions admits  of  forcible  and  imitative  descri|Hion  : 

-     -     -     aestuat  ingens 
Imo  in  corde  pudor,  mixtoque  insania  luctu, 
Et  furiis  agitatus  amor,  et  conscia  virtus. 

-/£«.  xii.  666. 

re,  the  mental  object  described  is  not  any 
ingle  passion,  but  the  complex  passion,  if  I  may 
call  it  so,  that  results  from  the  mixture  and  fer- 
mentation of  all  the  passions  attributed  to 
Turnus. 

To  give  one  example  more : — The  mind  of  a 
reader  can  hardly,  I  think,  be  flung  into  an  ima- 
ginary situation  more  closely  resembling  the  real 

situation 


* 


26 


DISSERTATION    I. 


\ 


situation  of  a  mind  distressed  by  the  complicated 
movements  of  irresolute,  fluctuating  and  anxious 
deliberation,  than  it  is  by  these  lines  of  Virgil ; 

-     -     -     magno  curarum  fluctuat  aestu  ; 
Atqueanimum  nunc  hue  celerem,  nuncdividitilluc, 
In  partesque  rapit  varias,  perque  omnia  versat. 

Mn,  viii,  iQ. 

It  may  be  necessary,  also,  for  clearness,  to 
observe,  that  description,  as  applied  to  mental 
objects,  is  sometimes  used  in  a  mo|e  loose  and  im- 
proper sense,  and  the  Poet  is  said  to  describe,  in 
general,  all  the  passions  or  manners  which  he,  in 
any  way,  exhibits ;  whether,  in  the  proper  sense  of 
the  word,  described,  or  merely  expressed ;  as,  for 
example,  in  the  lines  quoted  from  the  opening  of 
the  fcurth  book  of  the  .Eneid,  the  passion  of  Dido 
is  described  by  the  Poet.     In  these 

Quis  novus  hie  nostris  successit  sedibus  hospes  ? 
Quern  sese  ore  ferens !— quam  forti  pectore  et 
armis ! 


—it  is  expressed  by  herself  But  is  not  Wm  it 
may  be  asked,  still  imitation  f  It  is;  but  not 
descriptive  imitation.  As  expressive  of  passion, 
it  is  no  farther  imitative,  than  as  the  passion  ex- 
pressed is  imaginary,  and  makes  a  part  of  the 
Voei\  Jict ion  :  otherwise,  we  must  apply  the  word 
imitative,  as  nobody  ever  thought  of  applying  it, 
to  all  cases  in  which  we  are  made,  by  sympathy, 
4  to 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art,         Zf 

to  feel  strongly  the  passion  of  another  expressed 
by  words.    The  passage  is,  indeed,  also  imitative 
in  another  view — as  dramatic.  But  for  an  expla- 
nation of  both  these  heads  of  imitatioiv,  I  must 
refer  to  what  follows.— I  shall  only  add,  for  fear 
of  mistake,  that  there  is  also,  in  the  second  of 
those  lines,  descriptive  imitation  ;  but  descriptive 
of  ^neas  only  ;  not  of  Dido's  passion,  though  it 
strongly  indicates  that  passion. — All  I  mean  to 
assert  is,  tliat  those  lines  are  not  descriptive  imi- 
tation of  a  menial  object. 

So  much,  then,  for  the  subject  of  descriptive 
imitation,  which  has,  perhaps,  detained  us  too 
long  upon  a  single  point  of  our  general  inquiry. 

3.  The  word  imitation  is  also,  in  a  more  par- 
ticular, but  well-known,  sense,  applied  to  Poetry 
when  consideied  as  fiction — to  stories,  actions,^ 
incidents,  and  characters,  as  far  as  they  eire  feigned 
or  invented  by  the  Poet  in  inutation,  as  we  find  it 
commonly,  and  obviously  enough,  expressed,  of 
nature,  of  real  life,  of  truth,  in  general,  as  opposed 
to  that  individual  reality  of  things  which  is  the 
fMiovince  of  the. historian \  Of  this  imitation  the 
epic    and    dramatic    poems  are    the    principal 

examples. 

That  this  sense  of  the  term,  as  applied  to 
fiction,  is  entirely  distinct  firom  thai  in  which  it  is 
applied  to  description,  will  evidently  appear  from 

tihe 


«  Mi^®-— A07^   +£«/5^  ElKONIZriN   THN   AAH- 
^SIAN. — Suidasy  ^  Heiychius,  voce  Ui^^. 


*'  DISSERTATION!, 

the  following  considerations.— In  descriptive  imi- 
tation, the  resemblance  is  between  the  ideas  raised, 
and  the  actual  impressions,  whether  external  or 
internal,  received  from  the  things  themselves.  In 
Active    imitation,    the   resemblance    is,    strictly 
speaking,   between  the  ideas  raised,  and  other 
ideas ;  the  ideas  raised— the  ideas  of  the  Poem 
—being  no  other  than  copies,  resemblances,  or, 
more  philosophically,  new,  though  similar,  com- 
binations of  that  general  stock  of  ideas,  collected 
from  experience,  observation,  and  reading,  and 
reposited  in  the   Poet's  mind.— In  description, 
imiiation  is  opposed  to  actual  impression,  external 
or  internal :  in  fiction,  it  is  opposed  to  fact.-— 
In  their  ej'ects,  some  degree  of  illusion  is  implied; 
but  the  illusion  is  not  of  the  same  kind  in  both! 
Descriptive  imitation  may  be  said  to  produce 
illusive  perception,— Active,  illusive  belief. 

Farther— descriptive    imitation    may    subsist 
without  fictive,  and  Active,  without  descriptive. 
The  first  of  these  assertions  is  too  obvious  to 
stand  in  need  of  proof    The  other  may  require 
some  explanation.     It  seems  evident  that  fiction 
may  even  subsist  in  mere  narration,  without  any 
degree  of  description,  property  so  called ;    much 
more,  without  suck  description  as  I  have  called 
imitative ;    that  is,  without  any  greater  degree  of 
resemblance  to  the  things  expressed,  than  tliat 
which  is  implied  in  all  ideas,  and  produced  by 
all  language,  considered  merely  as  intelligible. 

Let 


On  Foetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art,  29 

Let  a  story  be  invented,  and  related  in  the 
plakiest  manner  possible  ;  in  short  and  ga|eral 
expressions,  amounting,  in  the  incidents,  to  mere 
assertion,  and  in  the  account  of  passions  and 
characters,  as  far  as  possible,  to  mere  attribution : 
this,  as  fiction,  is  still  imitation, — an  invented 
resemblance  of  real  life,  or,  if  you  please,  of 
history', — though  without  a  single  imitative  de- 
scription, a  single  picture,  a  single  instance  of 
strong  and  visible  colouring,  throughout  the  whole  *. 
I  mean,  by  this,  only  to  shew  the  distinct  and 
independent  senses  in  which  imitation  is  applied 
to  description  and  to  fiction,  by  shewing  how 
each  species  of  iniitation  may  subsist  without  the 
other :  but,  that  fictive  imitation,  though  it  does 
not,  in  any  degree,  depend  on  descriptive  for  its 
existence,  does,  in  a  very  great  degree,  depend 
on  it  for  its  beauty,  is  too  obvious  to  be  called  in 

question  \ 

The 

■  **  Historise  imitatio  ad  placitum."  Bacon,  De  au^m. 
Sclent,  lib.  ii.  c.  13. 

•  The  -^neid,  in  this  view,  is  equally  imitation  in 
every  part  where  it  is  not,  or  is  not  supposed  to  be, 
historically  true ;  even  in  the  simplest  and  barest  narra- 
tion. In  point  of  fiction,  "  tres  littore  cervos  prospicit 
crrantes,"  is  as  much  imitation,  though  not  as  poetical, 
as  the  fine  description  of  the  storm  in  the  same  book,  or 
of  Dido's  conflicting  passions,  in  the  fourth. 

*  Yet  even  here  a  distinction  obviously  suggests 
itself.    A  work  of  fiction  may  be  considered  in  two 

views ; 


$0  BISSERTATIONI. 

The  two  senses  last  mentioned  of  the  word 
imi^ive,,  as  applied  to  description,  and  to  fiction, 
are  manifestly  extended,  or  iniproper  senses,  as 
M^ell  as  that  first  mentioned,  in  which  it  is  applied 
to  language  considered  as  mere  sound.  In  all 
these  imitations,  one  of  the  essential  conditions  of 
whatever  is ^/Wc^/j/ so  denominated  is  wanting; — 

in 


views ;    in  the  whole,  or  in  its  parts :    in  the  general 
story,  the  Mu9^y  fable,  scries  of  events,  &c.  or,  in  the 
detail  and  circumstances  of  the  story,  the  account  of  such 
places,   persons,  and    things,   as   the   fable   necessarily 
involves.    Now,  in  the  first  view,  nothing  farther  seems 
requisite  to  make  the  fictive  imitation  good,  than  that  the 
events  be,  in  themselves ,  important,  interesting,  and  affect- 
ing, and  so  connected  :is  to  appear  credible,  probable,  and 
natural  to  the  reader,  and,  by  that  means,  to  produce  the 
illusion,  and  give  the  pleasure,  that  is  expected  : — and 
this  purpose  may  be  answered   by  mere  narration.    But 
in  the  detail  this  is  not  the  case.    When  the  Poet  pro- 
ceeds to  fill  up  and  distend  the  outline  of  his  general 
plan  by  the  exhibition  of  places,  characters,  or  passions, 
these  also,  as  well  as  the  events^  must  appear  probable 
and  natural :    but,  being  more  complex  objects,  they  can 
no  othei  wise  be  made  to  appear  so  than  by  some  degree 
of  description,  and  that  description  will  not  be  good  de- 
scription, that  is,  will  not  give  the  pleasure  expected 
from  a   work  of  imagination,  unless  it  be  imitative — 
such  as   makes  us  see  the  place,  feel  the  passion,  enter 
thoroughly  into  the  character  described.    Here,  iht fictive 
imitation  itself,   cannot   produce   its  proper  effect,   and 
therefore  cannot  be  considered   as  good,   without  die 
assistance  of  descriptive. 


i 


On  Poetry  constd^mas  a^imtlative  Art,  31 

in  sonorous  imitation,  the  resemblance  \s  immediate, 
but  not  obvious ;  in  the  others,  it  is  obviouSy  but 
not  immediate ;  that  is,  it  lies,  not  in  the  words 
themselves,  but  in  the  ideas  which  they  raise  ais 
signs'" :  yet  as  the  circumstance  of  obvious  resem- 
blance, which  may  be  regarded  as  the  most  striking 
and  distinctive  property  of  Imitation,  is  here  found, 
this  extension  of  the  word  seems  to  have  more 
propriety  than  that  in  which  it  is  applied  to  those 
faint  and  evanescent  resemblances  which  have, 
not  M'ithout  reason,  been  called  the  echo  of 
•  iBOund  to  sense  **. 
*  4.  There  seems  to  be  but  one  view  in  which 
Poetry  can  be  considered  as  Imitation,  in  the 
strict  and  proper  sense  of  the  m  ord.  If  -^  e  look 
for  both  immediate  and  obvious  resemblance,  we 
shall  find  it  only  in  dramatic — or  to  use  a  more 
general  term — personative  Poetry;  that  is, 
all  Poetry  in  which,  whether  essentially  or  occa- 
sionally,  the  Poet  personat^i*  for  here,  speech 
is  imitated  by  speech^    The  difference  between^ 

this,, 

*  See  above,  p.  5. 

*  Pope's  Essay  on  Crit,  365.— Indeed,  what  Ovid  says 
of  the  nymph  Echo  [Met,  iii.  35B.]  may  be  applied  to  this 
echo  of  imitative  words  and  construction  : — Nee  prior 
ipsa  loqui  didicit.  The  sense  of  the  words  must  speak  first, 

*  The  drama,  indeed,  is  said  also  to  imitate  action  by 
action ;  but  this  is  only  In  actual  representation,  where 
the  players  are  the  immediate  imitators.     In  the  poem 

itself 


/ 


M^ 


f«l 


3t  in  SSER  TAT  ION    I. 

this,  and  mere  narration  or  description,  is  obvious. 
When,  in  common  discourse,  we  relate,  ot  describe, 
in  our  own  persons,  we  imitate  in  no  other  sense 
than  as  we  raise  ideas  which  resemble  the  things 
related  or  described.  But  when  we  speak  as 
another  person,  we  become  mimics,  and  not  only 
the  ideas  we  convey,  but  the  words,  the  discourse 
itself,  in  which  we  convey  them,  are  imitations  ; 
they  resemble,  or  are  supposed  to  resemble,  those 
of  the  person  we  represent.  Now  this  is  tlic  case 
not  only  with  the  Tragic  and  Comic  Poet,  but 
also  with  the  Epic  Poet,  and  even  the  Historian,  \  - 
when  either  of  these  quits  his  own  character,  and 
UTites  a  speech  in  the  character  of  another  person. 
He  is  then  an  imitator,  in  as  strict  a  sense  as  the 
personal  mimic— In  dramatic,  and  all  personative 
Poetry,  then,  both  the  conditions  of  what  is 
properly  denominated  Imitation,  are  fulfilled. 

f^  And  now,  the  jgpstion— "  in  what  senses  the 
-:  word  Imitation  is,  or  may  be  applied  to  Poetry," — 
,  seems  to  have  received  its  answer.  It  appears, 
I  think,  that  the  term  ought  not  to  be  extended 
beyond  \k\efour  different  applications  which  have 
been  mentioned;  and  that  Poetry  can  be  justly 
considered  as  imitative,  only  by  sound,  by  descrip- 
,  tion,  by  fctiqn,  or  by  personation.  Whenever 
the 

Itself  nothing  but  words  can  be  immediately  copied. 
Gravina  says  well,  Non  e  im^a%mie  poet'ica  quella,  che 
non  e  fatta  dalle paroU.~-[Pella  Trag.  sect.  13.] 


¥ 


t 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art,  33 

the  Poet  speaks  in  his  own  person,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  does  not  either  feign,  or  make  '*  the 
sound  an  echo  to  the  sense,''  or  stay  to  impress 
his  ideas  upon  the  fancy  with  some  degree  of  that 
force  and  distinctness  which  we  call  description, 
he  cannot,  in  any  sense  that  I  am  aware  of,  be 
said  to  imitate ;  unless  we  extend  imitation  to 
all  speech  —  to  every  mode  of  expressing  our 
thoughts  by  words — merely  because  all  words 
are  signs  of  ideas,  and  those  ideas  images  of 
things^ 

It  is  scarce  necessary  to  observe,  that  these 
different  species  of  imitation  often  run  into,  and 
are  mixed  with,  each  other.  They  are,  indeed, 
more  properly  speaking,  only  so  many  distinct, 
abstracted  views,  in  which  Poetry  may  be  con- 
sidered as  imitating.  It  is  seldom  that  any  of 
theni  are  to  be  found  separately ;  and  in  some 
of  them,  others  are  necessarily  implied.  Thus, 
dramatic  imitation  implies  fiction,  and  sonorous 
imitation,  description ;  though  conversely,  it  is 
plainly  otherwise.  Descriptive  imitation  is,  ma- 
nifestly, that  which  is  most  independent  on  all 
the  others.  The  passages  in  which  they  are  all 
united  are  frequent ;  and  those  in  which  all  are 
excluded,  are,  in  the  best  Poetry,  very  rare :  for 
the  Poet  of  genius  rarely  forgets  his  proper  Ian* 

guage ; 

'  See  Hermes,  Book  iii.  ch,  3,  p.  329,  &c.  And  Part  II. 
of  this  Diss,  note^ 

VOL.  I.  D 


I 


34  DISSERT  AT  I  O  N    I. 

guage  ;  and  that  cart  scarcely  be  retained,  af  least 
while  he  relates^  without  more  or  less  of  colouring, 
of  imagery,  of  that  descriptive  force  which  makes 
us  see  and  hear.  A  total  suspension  of  all  his 
functions  ds  an  imitator  is  hardly  to  be  found, 
but  in  the  simple  proposal  of  his  subject^,  in  hi^ 
invocation^  the  e^ipression  of  his  own  sentimtntsV 
or,  in  those  calm  beginnings  of  narration  where, 
now  and  thett,  the  Poet  stoops  to  fact,  antf 
becomes,  for  a  moment,  little  more  than  a  metrical 
historian''. 

The  full  illustration  of  all  this  by  examjf)les, 
would  draw  otit  to  greater  length  a  discussiofif, 
which  the  reader,  I  fear,  has  already  thought  too 
long.  If  he  will  open  the  iEneid,  of  any  other 
epic  poem,  and  apply  these  remarks,  he  may,- 
jfjerhaps,  find  it  amusing  to  trace  the  different 
kinds  of  imitation  as  they  successively  occur,  iri 
their  various  combinations  and  de^r^es :  and  to 
observe  the  Poet  varying,  from  page  to  page,  and 

sometimes 


«  Arma  virumque  cano,  Trojae  qui  primus  ab  oris 
Italiam,  fato  profugus,  Lavinaque  venit 

^  Musa,  mihi  causas  memora,  &c.  Ibid, 

*  Tantacne  animis  caelestibus  irae  ? 


Tantae  molis  eratRomanam  condere  gentem.    Jbtd. 
*^  Urbs  antiqua  fuit,  (Tyrii  tcriuere  coloni,) 
Carthago,  Italiam  contra,  Tiberinaque  longc 
Ostia,  &c.  Jhid, 


M 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art.  3^ 

sometimes  even  from  line  to  line,  the  quantity,  if 
J  may  so  speak,  of  his  imitation ;  sometimes 
shifting,  and  sometimes,  though  rarely  and  for  a 
moment,  throwing  oft'  altogether,  his  imitative 
form. 

It  has  been  often  said  that  all  Poetry  is 
ImitatiorL  But  from  the  preceding  inquiry  it 
appears,  that,  if  vve  take  Poetry  in  its  common 
acceptation,  for  all  metrical  composiiion^  the 
assertion  is  not  true ;  not,  at  least,  in  any  sense 
of  the  term  Imitation  but  such  as  will  make  it 
equally  true  of  all  Speech"".  If,  on  ll>e  other 
band,  we  depart  from  that  common  acceptation  of 
the  word  Poetry y  the  assertion  that  **  all  Poetry 
is  Imitation,"  seems  only  an  improper  and  con- 
fused way  of  saying,  that  no  composition  that  is 

•  

not  imitative  ought  to  be  called  Poetry.  To 
examine  the  truth  cf  this,  would  be  to  engage  in 
a  fresh  discussion  totally  distinct  from  the  object 
of  this  dissertation.  We  have  not,  now,  been 
considering  what  Poetry  is,  or  how  it  should  be 

dejined ; 


'  This  expression  is  nowhere,  that  I  know  of,  used  by 
Aristotle.  In  the  beginning  of  his  treatise  he  asserts 
only  that^the  Epic,  Tragic,  Comic,  and  Dithyramhcc  Poems 
are  imitations.  Le  Bossu,  not  content  with  saying  that 
"  every  sort  of  Poem  in  general  is  an  Imitation,'*  goes  so 
far  as  even  to  alter  the  text  of  Aristotle  in  his  marginal 
quotation.  He  makes  him  say,  nOIH2EI2  'aojcu 
Tvyxf*''^^^^  s^iaM  (M(A.'n(TU(i  to  (TvvoXov* 

*  See  p.  33,  note  ^ 

D2 


V 


36  DISSERTATION!. 

defined ;  but  only,  in  what  sense  it  is  an  ImUati'oe 
Art:  cr,  rather,  we  have  been  examining  the 
nature  and  extent  of  verbal  imitation  in 
generdl". 

II. 

THE  preceding  general  inquiry,  "  in  what 
**  senses  the  word  Imitation  is,  or  may  be,  applied 
^  to  Poetry,"  brings  us  with  some  advantage  to 
the  other  question  proposed,  of  more  immediate 
concern  to  the  reader  of  this  treatise  of  Aristotle, — 
**  in  what  senses  it  was  so  applied  by  him." 

1.  It  is  clearly  so  applied  by  him  in  the  sense 
which,  from  him,  has,  I  think,  most  generally 
been  adopted  by  modern  writers — that  of  fiction, 
as  above  explained*,  whether  conveyed  in  the 
dramatic  or  personative  form,  or  by  mere  nar- 
ration in  the  person  of  the  Poet  himself  \  Thie 
appears  from  the  whole  sixth  section  of  Part  II. 
oi  the  original,  ch.  ix.]  but  especially  from  the 

last 

°  Imitation,  in  every  sense  of  the  word  that  has  been 
mentioned,  is  manifestly  independent  on  meire,  though 
being  more  eminently  adapted  to  the  nature  and  end  of 
metrical  composition,  it  has  thence  been  peculiarly  deno- 
minated Poetic  imitation,  and  attiibuted  to  the  Poetic  jirt» 

»  P.  27. 

^  fjuixiKTOcu  Inv a.{  TON  ATTON  hoi  MH  META- 

BAAAONTA.  cap.  3.  "  The  Poet  may  imitate,  &c. — 
or,  in  his  own  person  throughout,  without  change"  Part  I. 
Sect.  4* 


,    On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art,  ^7 

lastparagi'aph,    where  he  expressly  says,  that 

what   constitutes  the   Poef  an  imitator ^  ^^t^e 

invention    of  a  Table  :    7irot«T»)k    /xaAXov    THN 

MT0nN  i\ya,i   ^«  nOIHTHN htr^  isrw>iTUf 

KATA  MIMH2IN  Ui'  [M^iAetTOLt  h  TAS  nPAHEI2  ^ 
He  repeatedly  calls  the  fable,  or  Mu6^,  ''„an^ 
imitation  ojijiriaction  ; ''  but  tliis  it  can  be  in  no 
other  sense  than  as  it  is  feigned,  either  entirely, 
or  in  part.  A  historj^,  as  far,  at  least,  as  it  is 
strictly  history,  is  not  an  imitation  of  an  action. 
2.  It  seems  equally  clear,  that  he  considered 


WWK"'  NtlW^»*.-MiW>*' 


dramatic  l^oetry  as  peculiarly  imitative,  above 
every  other  species.  Hence  his  j^r^^  rule  concern- 
ing the  epic  or  narrative  imitation,  ihat  its  fable 
"Should  be  dramatically  constructed,  like  that  of 

tragedy  ^  : '' — T«f  jw-ufla^,  xaOaTrtp  tv  Txtg  T^ayw^iai^, 

APAMATIKOrr  : — his  praise  of  Homer  for  **  the 
dramatic  spirit  of  his  imitations : " —  ort  xoci 
M1MH2EI2  APAMATIKA2  Wo«»j<rf':  and  above 
all,  the  remarkable  expression  he  uses,  where, 
having  laid  it  down  as  a  precept  that  the  epic 
Poet  *'  should  speak  as  little  as  possible  in  his 

own  person,"  {ATTOlSi  $h  toi^ -zirotiiTTii/ £X»;^ira  Afy«vJ" 

he  gives  this  reason — OT  yx^  Wi  kxtoc.  rxr^rx 
MIMHTHS  :  "  for  he  is  pot  then  the  1M1TAT0R^'' 

But, 

*=  See  Mr.  Harris,  PhiloL  Inq,  p.  139. 
*■  Part  III.  Sect.  i.  Of  the  orig.  ch.  xxiii. 
*  Part  [.  Sect.  6.  Orig.  cap.  iv. 
^  Part  III.  Sect.  3,  Orig.  cap.  xxiv. 


38 


DISSERTATION    I. 


I  j  'But,  he  had  before  expressly  allowed  the  Poet  to 
•be  an  imitator  even  whi^  he  retains  his  own 
'person^.  J  see  no  other  way  of  removing  this 
apparent  inconsistence,  than  by  supposing  him  to 
speak  comparatfvely,  and  to  mean  no  more,  than 
that  the  Poet  is  not  then  truly  and  strictly  zn 
imitator** ;  or,  in  other  words,  that  imitation  is 
applicable  in  its  strict  ^^nA  proper  sense,  only  to 
personative  poetry,  as  above  explained;  to  that 
Poetry  in  which  speech  is  represented  by  speech, 
and  the  resemblance,  as  in  painting  and  sculpture, 
is  immediate.  I  am  not  conscious  that  I  am 
here  forcing  ypon  Aristotle  a  meaning  that  may 

not 

5  See  above,  note**. 

**  So  Victorius  :  ''  amittit  pene  eo  tempore  nomen 
Poetac."  Castelvetro's  solution  of  this  difficuhy  is  the 
saaie ;  and  I  find  his  ideas  of  this  matter  so  coincident 
with  my  own,  that  I  am  induced  to  transcribe  his  words  : 
In  his  comment  upon  the  passage,  he  says,  speaking  of 
the  dramatic  part  of  epic  poetry,  "  Si  domanda  qui 
"  solo  rassomigliativo,  (i.  e.  imitative)  non  perche  ancora 
"  quando  il  Poeta  narra  scnza  introducimento  di  persone 
'*  a  favellare,  non  rassomigli,  ma  perche  le  parole  diriite 
**  poste  in  luogo  di  parole  diritie^  figuranoy  rappr^sentanoy 
**  e  rassomigliano  MEGLio  le  parole^  che  le  parole  poste  in 
**  luogo  di  cosE  non  figurano,  non  rappresentano,  non 
rassomigliano  le  cose ;  in  guisa  che,  in  ccrto  modo  si puo 
dire  che  il  rappresentare  parole  con  parole  sia  rasso* 
"  migliaie ;  e  il  rappresentare  cose  con  parole  non  sia 
**  Ti'%^om\^\dirQ,  paragonando  Punrassomigliarc  conP^ltro^ 
"  &  non  semplicemcnte,^^     p.  554. 


i( 


(( 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art.  39 

nqt.be  hi^.  ^  s^eip  to  be  qnly  drawing  a  clear 
inferepqe  .from  a  clear  fact.  It  cannot  be  denied, 
,tl^at,  in  t^ie^pa^.sage^,, alleged,  he  plainly  speaks  of 
j)ei:sonative  Poetry  as  th^t  which  peculiarly 
^4esei;ye3  the  iiapie  of  imitatipn.  The  inference 
^eems  obvious—that  he  speaks  of  it  as  peculiarly 
■ifpitative,  in  the  only  ^ense  in  which  it  is  so,  as 
beipg  the  only  species  of  Poetry  that  is  strictly 
imitative. 

I  ^o  nqt  find  in  Aristotle  any  express  appli- 
^catjon  of  the  term,  except  these  two.  Of  tlje 
^OtJ^er  two  ,^enses  in  which  Poetry  may  be,  and 
^by  modern  writers  has  been,  considered  as  imi- 
'  J,ation — resemblance  of  sou?id,  and  description — 
4je.say.s  nothing. 

,Witli  respect,  indeed,  to  the  former  of  these, 
sonorous  imitation,  it  cannot  appear  in  any  degree 
surprising  that  he  should  pass  it  over  in  total 
isilencd:  I  have  already  observed,  that  even  in 
a  general  inquiiy  concerning  the  nature  of  the 
imitation  attributed  to  Poetry,  it  is  by  no  meaiis 
that  sense  of  the  word  which  would  be  likely  first 
,tp  .occur;  ^and  it  would,  perhaps,  never  have 
occurred  at  all,  if,  in  such  inquiries,  we  were  not 
naturally  led  to  compare  Poetry  with  Painting, 
and  other  arts  strictly  imitative',  and  as  naturally 
led  by  that  comparison  to  admit  soiiorous  imi- 
station  as  one  species,  from  its  agreement  with  those 

strictly 


*  See  above,  p.  4, 
i>4 


40 


DISSERTATIONI. 


( 


Strictly  imitative  arts  in  the  circumstance  of  imme- 
diate resemblance..    But  no  such  general  inquiry 
^was  the  object  of  Aristotle's  work,  which  is  not 
a  treatise  on  Poetic  Imitation,  but  on  Poetry. 
His  subject,  therefore,  led  him  to  consider,  not 
fl//that  might  v;\i\\Qni  impropriety  be  denominated 
imitation  in  Poetry,  but  that  imitation  only  which 
I  he  regarded  as  essential  to  the  art ;  as  the  source 
I  of  its  greatest  beauties,  and  the  foundation  of  its 
\most  important  rules.     With  respect,   then,   to 
that   casual  and    subordinate  kind   of  imitation 
which  is  produced  merely  by  the  sound  of  words, 
it  was  not  likely  even  that  the  idea  of  it  should 
occur  to  him.     Indeed,  it  is  to  be  considered  as 
a  property  of  language  in  general,  rather  than 
of  Poetry ;  and  of  speech—of  actual  pronuncia- 
tion—rather than  of  language^  Besides  that  the 
beauties  arising  from  this  source  are  of  too  deli- 
cate and  fugitive  a  nature  to  be  held  by  rule. 
They  must  be  left  to  the  ear  of  the  reader  for 
their  effect,  and  ought  to  be  left  to  that  of  the 
Poet  for  their  production. 

But  neither  does  Aristotle  appe^  to  have  in- 
cluded description  in  his  notion  of  Poetic  imi- 
tation ;  which,  as  far  as  he  has  ex[)lained  it,  seems 
to  have  been  simply  that  of  the  imitation  of 
human  actions,  manners,  passions,  events,  &c.  in 
feigned  story  ;  and  that,  principally,  when  con- 
veyed 


^  See  above,  p.  5. 


n 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  jfrt,  41 

veyed  in  a  dramatic  form.  Of  description,  in- 
deed, important  as  it  is  to  the  beauty  of  Poetry 
in  general,  and  to  that  of  fiction  itself,  more  par- 
ticularly in  the  epic  form,  he  has  not  said  one 
word  throughout  his  treatise :  so  far  was  he  from 
extending  Poetic  imitation,  as  some  have  done, 
to  that  general  sense  which  comprehends  all 
speech^ 

But  here,  to  avoid  confusion,  the  sense  in 
which  I  have  used  the  term  description  must  be 
kept  in  A^  When  it  is  said  that  Aristotle  ->. 
"  did  not  mclude  description  in  his  notion  of 
"  imitation,"  it  is  not  meant,  that  he  did  not  con- 
sider the  descriptive  parts  of  narrative  Poetry  as 
in  any  respect  imitative.  The  subject  of  a  de- 
scription may  be  either  real,  or  feigned.  Almost 
all  the  descriptions   of  the   higher   Poetry,  the 

Poetry 
>        ■  ■  ' 

*  Thus  I.  C.  Scaliger,  Poet,  lib,  vii.  cap,  2.  "  Deni- 
"  que  imitationem  esse  in  OMNI  sermone,  quia  verba  sunt 
./**  imagines  rerumJ^  He  is  followed  by  Is.  Casaubon; 
De  Rom,  Satirdf  cap.  v.  p.  340.  Both  these  acute 
critics  dispute  warmly  against  Aristotle's  principle,  that 
the  essence  of  Poetry  is  imitation.  And  they  are,  un- 
doubtedly, so  far  in  the  right,  that  //i  as  they  contend,  the 
only  proper  sense  of  Poetry  is  that  in  which  it  is  opposed 
to  prose  {*'  omnem  metro  astrictam  orationem  et  posse  et 
«*  debere  Poema  dici."  Cas,  ubi  sup.)  then,  there  can  be 
no  other  imitation  common  to  all  Poetry^  than  that  which 
is  common  to  all  speech.     See  above,  p.  32,  33. 


■■* 


4^  ^JS  SXRTAi'I,ON    I. 

J?oetiy  qf  .invention,    ^re   of  the    latter  kind. 

These  ilristotie,  unques^ione^t^ly,^, considered  /^ 

wit^tioQ  ;  .byt/it  >v^s  (isjiction,  not  as  description  ; 

.•n-ras  fels^hood  resembling  truth,  ,or  nat^ce,  in 

.^ei)er^I,  jigt  as  verbal  .expression  veseaibjing,  by 

4ts  .force ^nd. clearness,  the  .visible  4;^pre$ent^tions 

,Qf  painting,  or. the  perception  of  the  thingjtself. 

Had  he  considered  description  in  this  sen§e  as 

jmitatign,   be    must    necessarily   have   admitted 

^ynit^tion  .yvithout  fiction'".    But  this  ^eems  clearly 

contrary 

*"  It  is  obvious,  that,  if  the  imitation  attributed  to  de- 
scription consists  in  the  clear  and  distinct  image  of  the 
.object  described,  every  description  conveying  such  an 
image  to  the  mind  must  be  equally  considered  as  imitative, 
.whether    tli^t  object  be  real,  or   imaginary ;    that  is, 
,3vhether  the  imitation  be  of  individual,  or  general  nature  ; 
just  as  in  painting,  a  portrait,  or  a  landscape  from  nature, 
is  as  much  imitation,  as  an  historical  figure,  or  an  ideal 
scene  of  Claude  Lorrain,  though  certainly  of  an  inferior 
vkind.     IiKleed,  that  which  presents  a  real,  sensible,  and 
precise  object  ef  coiHparison,  may  even  he  said  to  be 
more  obviously  and  properly  imitatiany  than  that  wJiich 
refers  us,  for  its  original,  to  a  vague  and  general  idea.r- 
Jtmay  he  objected,  that  this  jv ill  extend  imitation  to  sll 
^xact  description  ;  and  it  maybe  asked,  whether  every 
%iuch  description  of  a  building,  or   of  a  machine,  for 
•instjance,  is  to  be  called  an  imitation  ?     I  answer,  that 
descriptions  may  be  too  exact  to  be  imitative  ;  too  detailed 
and  minute  to  present  the  luhole  strongly,  as  a  picture. 
Technical  descriptions  are  such.     They  may  be  said  to 
'4  describe 


On  Poetry  considered  asMn  Imitative  Art,  43 

xontrary  to  -the  whole  tenor  .of  his  treatise.  Ibe 
beauty,  indeed,  of  such  description  was  wall 
rknown  to  the  antients,  and  frequent  examples  of 
it  are  to  be  found  in  their  best  Avriters— tboir 
orators  and  historians,  as  well  as  Poets;    and, 

particularly, 


describe  ^^ry  /)^r/ without  describing  iht  whole.     To 
igive  a  complete  idea  of  all  the  pMrts,  for  the  merc^purpose 
of  information,  and  to  give  .a  strong  and  vivid  general 
i^a  in  order  to  please  the  imagiaation,.are  very  different 
things.    It  is  by  selection^  not  by  enumeration^  that  the 
latter  purpose  is  to  be  effFected.    [«See  Dr.  Beattie!s  jE«<?y 
on  Poetry  and  Musicy  Part  I.  ch.  v.  sect.  4.] — I  believe  it 
will  be  found,  on  examination,  that. every  description, 
whatever  be  its  purpose,   or   its   subject,   which  does 
actually  convey  such  a  lively  and  distinct  idea  of  the 
whole  of  any  object,  affords  some  degree  of  pleasure  to 
the  imagination,  and  is,  so  far,  imitative  ;    but  whether 
it  affords  such  a  degree  of  that  pleasure,  or  ^whether  it 
be  such  in  other  respects,  as  to  amount,  on  the  whole, 
to  what  may  properly  be  called  Pcetical  imitation,  is 
another  question.    I  must  again  remind  the  reader,  that 
the   object  of  this    Dissertation   is   to  inquire  in  what 
senses  the  word  imitation  is  applied  to  language  in  general 
— not  to  examine  all  the  requisites  of  such  imitation  as 
deserves  the  name  of  poetry.    Though  it  has  been 
said  that  all  Poetry  is  imitation,  it  has  never,  I  think, 

been  said  that  all  imitation  is  Poetry -See   above, 

p.  28  &  29,  and  note  *. 

What  I  said  above,  of  the  difference  between  the 
desctipuoa  of  all  the  parts  or  circwnstances,  and  the 

dfiScriptiPH 


44 


DISSERTATION    I, 


particularly,  in  Homer  •.  But  there  is  one  par- 
ticular kind  of  description  that  may  be  said  to 
be,  in  a  great  measure  at  least,  peculiar  to  modem 
X  times  ;  I  mean  that  which  answers  to  landscape 
in  painting,  and  of  which  the  subject  is,  pros- 
pects, views,  rural  scenery,  &c.  considered  merely 

as 


/ 


description  of  the  tuAo/e  by  the  selection  of  those  parts 
or  circumstances  which  are  most  striking,  and  charac- 
teristic of  the  thing  described,  may  be  illustrated  by  a 
single  description  of  a  machine,  in  Virgil :  I  mean  the 
description  of  a  fUugh,  in  his  Georgics. 

Continuo  in  sylvis  magna  yxflexa  domatur 
In  burlm ,  &  c  u  r v  i  formam  accipit  ulmus  a  R  a  T  R  i . 
Huic  ab  stirpc  pedes  temo  protentus  in  octo, 
Binae  "aures,  duplici  aptantur  dcntalia  dorso. 
Caeditur  &  tilia  ante  jugo  levis,  altaque  fagus, 
Stivaque,  quae  currus  a  tcrgo  torqueat  imos,  &c. 

I  believe  every  reader  will  agree  with  me  that  the 
second  line  of  this  description  conveys,  alone,  a  clearer 
picture  of  a  plough  to  the  imagination,  than  all  that  fol- 
lows;  which  indeed  diiFers  little,  if  we  except  the  metre ^ 
from  a  mere  technical  description  in  a  dictionary  of 
arts. 


*  Indeed,  the  very  existence  of  an  appropriated  term, 
fva^rno,  to  denote  the  clearness  and  visibility  of  descrip- 
tion, would  alone  furnish  a  suflBcient  proof  of  this, 
though  every  work  in  which  it  was  exemplified  had 
been  lost. 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art,  45 

as  pictures — as  beautiful  objects   to  the    ej/ef. 
As  the  truth  of   this  observation  may   noi|be 

readily 

t  Descriptions  of  rural  objects  in  the  antient  v^riters, 
are  almost  always,  what  may  be  called  sensual  descrip- 
tions. They  describe  them  not  as  beautiful,  but  as 
pleasant ; — as  pleasures,  not  of  the  imagination,  but  of 
the  external  senses.  Of  this  kind  is  the  description  of  a 
Sicilian  scene  in  the  7th  Pastoral  of  Theocritus,  from 
▼er.  131  to  146. — Refreshing  shades,  cool  fountains,  the 
singing  of  birds,  sweet  smells,  boughs  laden  with  fruit, 
the  hum  of  bees,  &c. — all  this  is  charming,  but  it  is  not 
2i  landscape.  [See  Dr.Warton's  Essay  on  Pope^  vol.  i. 
p.  4.]  Nor  does  Virgil  paint  a  landscape,  though  his 
reader  may  paint  one  for  himself,  when  he  exclaims, 

O  qui  me  gelidis  in  vallibus  Haemi 

Sistat,  &  ingenti  ramorum  protegat  umbra. 
Of  the  same  kind  is  the  famous  description,  in  the 
Phadrus  of  Plato,  of  that  spot  on  the  banks  of  the 
Ilissus  to  which  Socrates  and  Phaedrus  retire  to  read  and 
converse  together  in  the  heat  of  a  summer's  day.  The 
broad  shade  of  a  plane-tree,  refreshing  breezes,  a  spring, 
lujct^  4'WXf«  \j^a.T^^  to  cool  their  feet,  and,  what  is  best  of 
all,  says  Socrates, — ('sravrwv  xoftJ/oraTov)  a  bed  of  grass  in 
which  they  could  recline  at  their  ease — these  are  the 
materials  of  the  description  :  not  a  single  allusion  to  the 
pleasure  of  the  eye. — We  learn  from  a  passage  that 
follows  this  description,  that  the  country  had  no  charms 
for  Socrates.  His  apology  is  curious.  He  could  "  learn 
nothing  from  fields  and  trees ^  l,uyyivoi)(r)cE  ^  /mi,  a  a^irs^ 
he  says  to  Phaedrus,  who  had  rallied  him  on  that  sub- 
ject, ^i>^(jux^<i  ya^  slfju.  ra  fjuv  sv  x^S^^  *«*  "^^  ^evo^a  i^tif 
/K£  ^fc^f»  3i3ajx£iv,  01  J'iy  ra  am  avO^aTTOi,  Phadrus,  p.  230. 
Ed.  Serrani, 


h 


4^  ItrsSE  KTATTO  W    T, 

readily  axhuitted;  md  as  the  subject  is  curious; 
and  ms  not,  that  I  know  of,  been  discussed,  the 
reader  will,  perhaps,  pardon  me,  if  I  suffer  it  to 
detain  us  from  our  direct  patli,  in  a  digression 
of  some  length. 

I  do  not  mean  to  deny  that  there  are  sowie 
beautifur,  though  sfight,  touches  of  local  descrip- 
tion to  be  found  in  the  antient  Poets.     But  it 
must  be  confessed,  I  think,  that  they  scattered 
these  beauties  with  a  sparing  hand,  in  comparison 
with  that  rich   profusion   of   picturesque   ideas 
which  every  reader  of  Poetry  recollects  in  Shak- 
speare,  Milton,  Spenser,  Thomson,  and  almost 
all  the  modern  Poets  of  any  name.    Nor  can  I 
say  that  I  am  able  to  point  out  anything  of  this 
sort  in  the  most  descriptive  of  the  Greek  Poets 
— in  Theocritus,  or  even  in  Homer—that  fairly 
amounts  to  such  picturesque  landscape-description 
(if  I  may  call  it  so),  as  I  mean,  and  as  we  find 
so  frequently  in  the  Poets  just  mentioned.     In 
Mr.  Popes  Poetical  Inde.v  to  his  Homer,  wc  are 
referred,  indeed,  to  descriptions  of  "  prospects,'' 
and  'landscapes  of  a  fine  country  \"  but,  if  we 
turn  to  the  original,  we  shall  seldom,  or  never, 
find  these  landscapes.    They  are  of  Mr.  Pope's 
painting;  sometimes  suggested  by  a  single  epithet, 
as  his 

grassy  Vieleon  decked  zvitk  chearful greens. 

The  fmvrs  of  Ceres  and  the  syhan  scenes, 

Hiad,  ii.  850. 

One 


On  Poetry  const def Hi  as  art  Imitative  Art,  Jff, 

One  word  only  of  thi^  description*  is  Homer's 
prof)erty,  "  grassy,''  A£;)^f7ro(»ii/".  Many  other 
instances  may  be  found,  particularly  in  hi^ 
catalogue  of  the  ships,  which  indeed  lie  professes 
to  har^^e  endeavoured  to  "  make  appear  as  mucb 
"  a  landscape  or  piece  of  painting  as  possible." 
[Obs.  on  the  calj^logu^.]  Sometinfies  he  doea 
more  than  *'  open  the  prospect  a  little^'  as  he 
expresses  it ;  he  creates  it.  In  his  perj^ieus 
version  (^'  Perfidat — sed  quatnivis  perfida,  carat 
tannen' ! ")  "  lofty  Scsamus  invades  the  sky ;"  and 
the  river  Parthenius 

-  -  -  toird  thro'  banks  of  facers 
Reflects  kef  botd'riftg  palaces  and  botvers. 

lb,  104a. 

nt  Horrief,  Xht  mfountain  and  the  river  ar^ 
Simply  nartied;  not  a  ^ihgle  epHhet  attends  them*. 
lit 

"  II.  B.  697.  The  adjective,  ^r^jiy,  however,  is  by 
no  means  adequate  to — X£;^£9rooiv, — ^i.  e.  tiji/  'Bo>My  'ssooat- 
lx;»^<av  Kou  ^a9£iciVy  suauin^  h  ri  hi  kou  AEHAS0AI,  Tsrert, 
I^OIMH0HNAI.  Ucsych.—UtviQC,  probably,  Mr. Pope's 
lowers,  &c.  A  single  word  perfectly  equivalent  to  a 
single  word  of  the  original  cannot  always  be  found.  In 
this  case,  a  translator,  unwilling  to  fall  short  of  the  Poet's 
meaning,  naturally  endeavours  to  express  in  ^ore 
words  what  he  Has  said  in  one ;  but  In  doing  this,  he  ^ill 
often  be  unavoidably  reduced  to  the  dilemma,  of  either 
mi'sVfepre^tiltlrtg  the  original,  if  he  admits  different  or 
addit'totial  ideas,  or,  of  weakening  it  by  diffusion,  if  he- 
does  not. 

•  H.  B.  853,  854. 


II 


4S  DISSE  RTATXOK    I. 

In  the  Index  to  the  Odyssey,  we  find,  among 
other  descriptions,  one,  of  *^  the  landscape  about 
Ithaca.''     This    has    a   promising  appearance. 
Mr.  Pope  indeed  has  done  his  utmost  to  make  a 
landscape  of  this  description ;  yet,  even  his  trans- 
lation, though  certainly  beautiful,  and  even  pictu 
resque^  will  hardly,  I  believe,  be  thought  to  come 
up  to  what  a  modern  reader  would  expect  from 
— "  the  landscape  about  Ithaca''   Still  less  is  tliis 
title  applicable  to  the  original  **.     All  that  can  be 
said  of  it  without  exaggeration  is,  that  it  is  u 
very  pleasing  scene,  though  described,  as  many 
things  in  Homer  are  described,  with  that  simplicity 
which  leaves  a  great  deal,  and  may  suggest  a  great 
deal,  to  the  fancy  of  the  reader.    Though  it  does 
not  answer  to  the  idea  given  of  it  in  Pope's  index, 
or  in  the  note  upon  the  place',  yet  it  must  be 
allowed  to  furnish,  at  least,  some  good  materials 
for  a  landscape;  such  as,  a  grove',  water  falling 
from  a  rock,  and  a  rustic  altar.    If  the  descrip- 
tion itself  is  too  simple,  short,  and  general^  to  be, 
properly  speaking,  picturesque  description^  yet  it 


f  Od.  P.  204 — 211. 

<  **  It  is  observable  that  Homer  gives  us  an  exact 
**  draught  of  the  country ;  he  sets  before  us,  as  in  a  ficturcy 
"  the  city"  &c.     Od.  Book  xvii.  note  on  v.  224. 

'  Wovc\tx\  gvos t  \s  circular  \  otKor^  HavTotrt  YiStlLhO- 
TEPES.  ver.  209.  A  circumstance  rather  unpicturesque. 
Mr.  Pope  knew  what  to  suppress,  as  well  as  what  to  add. 
He  softens  this  into  a  **  surrounding  grove.'* 


% 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art,         49 

is  such  as  wants  nothing,  to  become  so,  but  a 
little  more  colouring  of  expression,  a  little  more 
distinctness  and  sptciality  of  touch.  This,  and 
more  than  this,  Mr.  Pope  has  given  it;  and  that 
his  description  is,  at  least,  highly  picturesque,  W\\\ 
scarce  be  disputed.  Homer  gives  us  simply — 
."  an  altar  to  the  nymphs'."  Pope  covers  it  with 
moss^  and  embowers  it  deep  in  shades ;  and  in  his 
concluding  line,  he  goes  beyond  the  description 
of  the  J)lace,  to  the  description  of  the  ''  religio 
loci" — of  the  ej^ect  of  the  place  upon  the  minds 
of  those  who  approached  it. 

Beneath,  sequester  d  to  the  nymphs  is  seen 
'     A  mossy  altar,  deep-embozverd  in  green ; 
Where  constant  vows  by  travellers  are  paid, 
j4nd  holy  horrors  solemnize  the  shade. 

V.  242. 

— The  additions  of  Mr.  Pope's  pencil  are  distin- 
guished, in  the   above   quotations,  by  Italics  \ 

But, 

*  j9a)/u©-— w/x^aajv.  v.  210. 

^  Many  such  additions  and  imprcvements  the  reader 
will  also  find  in  his  translation  of  Homer's  description 
of  the  shield,  in  the  i8th  book.  To  give  one  remarkable 
specimen: — The  eleventh  compartirnent  of  the  shield, 
he  tells  us  in  his  Observations  on  the  Shield  at  the  end 
of  that  book,  is,  *'  an  entire  landscafe  without  human 
"  figures,  an  image  of  nature  solitary  and  undisturbed," 
&c.     Let  us  first  view  this  landscape  in  the  original. 

11.2.587. 

VOL.1.  s  E» 


M'^  *' 


t^ 


50 


DISSERTATION    I. 


But,  to  prvve  the  inferiority  of  tiie  antients  in 
this  species  of  description,  by  an  accurate  and 
comparative  examination  of  all  those  passages 
which  are  commonly  produced  as  examples  of  it, 
would  be  a  task  of  considerable  length,  though, 
I  think,  of  no  great  difficulty.  The  few  instances 
here  given  from  Homer  are  intended  rather  as 
illustrations  of  the  difference  I  meant  to  point 

out, 


Ey  uatXri  ^na-ayjy  (Aiyav  olav  a^ewowv. 

What  Lsaid  of  the  simplicity  zn^  gemraiiti^  of  thedc- 
scription  last  mentioned,  in  the  Odyssey,  is  exactly 
applicable  to  this.  Even  in  his  ^roxr-translation  of  these 
lines,  [Obs.  p.  123.]  Mr.  Pope  could  not  perfectly 
command  his  fancy.  "  The  divine  artist  then  en- 
*<  graved  a  large  flock  of  white  sheep,  feeding  along  a 
"  beautiful  valley.  Innumerable  folds,  cottages^  and 
*'  enclosed  shelters,  w^ere  scattered  through  the 
"  PROSPECT."  The  expressions  1  have  distinguished 
are  Mr.  Pope's  ;  their  effect  on  the  visibility  and  dis- 
tinctness of  the  picture,  I  need  not  point  out.  The  last 
addition — "  scattered  through  the  prospect^^  is  particularly 
picturesque. — Now,  let  us  turn  to  his  poetic  version,  and 
there,  indeed,  we  shall  find  that  finished  landscape  of 
which  Homer  furnished  only  the  simple  sketch: 

Next  this,  the  eye  the  art  of  Vulcan  leads    ' 
Deep  through  hir  forests,  and  a  length  of  meads  ; 
And  stalls,  and  folds,  and  scatter'' d  cots  between^ 
And  feecy  flocks  that  whiten  all  the  scene. 


i" 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  An,  r  i 

out,  than  as  proofs  of  the  general  fact,  which 
I  leave  to  the  recollection  and  tlie  judgment  of 
the  reader.  To  me,  I  confess,  nothing  appears 
more  evident. 

And  may  we  not  account  for  this  defect  in 
antient  Poetry,  from  a  similar  defect  in  the  sister 
art  of  PAINTING?— For  it  appears,  I  think, 
from  all  that  has  been  transmitted  to  us  of  the 
history  of  that  art  among  the  antients,  that  land- 
scape-pabiting  either  did  not  exist,  or,  at  least, 
was  very  little  cultivated  or  regarded  among  the 
Greeks".  InJ^iy's  account  of  Grecian  artists  ? 
we  find  no  landscape-painter  mentioned7nor^ny- 
thing  like  a  landscape  described  in  his  catalogue  ^ 

of 


■  The  Abbe  Winckelmann,  eminent  for  the  accu- 
racy  of  his  researches  into  every  thing  relative  to  the 
subject  of  antient  arts,  gives  it  as  liis  opinion,  that  the 
paintings  discovered  in  the  ruins  of  Herculanum,  (four 
only  excepted,)  are  not  older  than  the  times  of  the 
Emperors;    and  he  assigns  this  reason,  among  others, 
that  mo'^t  of  them   are  only  landscapes: — "  Paysages, 
**  ports,  maisons  de  campagne,  chasses,  peches,  vues,  & 
"  que  le  premier  qui  travailla  dans  ce  genre  fut  un 
"  certain  Ludio  qui  vivoit  du  terns  d'Auguste/'     He 
adds, — "  Les  anciens  Grecs  ne  s'amusoient  pas  a  peindre 
"  des  objets  inanimes,  uniquement  propres  a  rejouir  agre^ 
«  ablement  la  vue  sans  occuper  l^esprit"    \_HisU  de  P Art 
che%  les  Anciens^  tome  ii.  p.  104.]    The  remark  seems  just, 
Men  and  manners^   were  the  only   objects  which   the 
Greeks  seem  to  have  thought  worth  regarding,  either  in 
painting,  or  poetry. 

£  2 


50  DISSERTATIONI. 

But,  to  pry)ve  the  inferiority  of  die  antients  in 
this  species  of  description,  by  an  accurate  and 
comparative  examination  of  all  those  passages 
which  are  commonly  produced  as  examples  of  it, 
would  be  a  task  of  considerable  length,  though, 
I  think,  of  no  great  difficulty.  The  few  instances 
here  given  from  Homer  are  intended  rather  as 
illustrations  of  the  difference  I  meant  to  point 

out, 


Ey  «aX>j  ^YKTayjj  fAfyav  oicav  a^twouavp 

What  I,  said  of  the  simplicity  zn^  generaiity  of  the  dc- 
scription  last  mentioned,  in  the  Odyssey,  is  exacdy 
applicable  to  this.  Even  in  his  ^ro/r-translation  of  these 
lines,  [Obs.  p.  123.]  Mr.  Pope  could  not  perfectly 
command  his  fancy.  *'  The  divine  artist  then  en- 
'*  graved  a  large  flock  of  white  sheep,  feeding  along  a 
"  beautiful  valley.  Innumerable  folds,  cottages^  and 
**  enclosed  shelters,  were  scattered  through  the 
"  PROSPECT."  The  expressions  I  have  distinguished 
are  Mr.  Pope's ;  their  effect  on  the  visibility  and  dis- 
tinctness of  the  picture,  I  need  not  point  out.  The  last 
addition — "  scattered  through  the  prosfect^^  is  particularly 
picturesque. — Now,  let  us  turn  to  his  poetic  version,  and 
there,  indeed,  we  shall  find  that  finished  landscape  of 
which  Homer  furnished  only  the  simple  sketch : 

Next  this,  the  eye  the  art  of  Vulcan  leads     ' 
Deep  through  hiT  forests,  and  a  length  of  meads  ; 
And  stalls,  and  folds,  and  scatter'^d  cots  between^ 
And  feecy  flocks  that  whiten  all  the  scene. 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art,  e\ 

out,  than  as  proofs  of  the  general  fact,  which 
I  leaVe  to  the  recollection  and  tHe  judgment  of 
the  reader.  To  me,  I  confess,  nothing  appears 
more  evident. 

And  may  we  not  account  for  this  defect  in 
antient  Poetry,  from  a  similar  defect  in  the  sister 
art  of  PAINTING?— For  it  appears,  I  think, 
from  all  that  has  been  transmitted  to  us  of  the 
history  of  that  art  among  the  antients,  that  land- 
scape-painting  either  did  not  exist,  or,  at  least, 
was  very  little  cultivated  or  regarded  among  the 
Greeks".  In  Plhiy's  account  of  Grecian  artists 
we  find  no  landscape-painter  mentioned  f  nor  Any- 
thing like  a  landscape  described  in  his  catalogue  | 

""of 


■  The  Abbe  Winckelmann,  eminent  for  the  accu- 
racy of  his  researches  into  every  thing  relative  to  the 
subject  of  antient  arts,  gives  it  as  his  opinion,  that  the 
paintings  discovered  in  the  ruins  of  Herculanum,  (four 
only  excepted,)  are  not  older  than  the  times  of  the 
Emperors;    and  he  assigns  this  reason,  among  others, 
that  most  of  them   are  only  landscapes: — "  Paysages, 
**  ports,  maisons  de  campagne,  chasses,  peches,  vues,  & 
que  le  premier  qui  travailla  dans  ce  genre  fut  un 
certain  Ludio  qui  vivoit  du  terns  d'Auguste/'     He 
adds, — "  Les  anciens  Grecs  ne  s'amusoient  pas  a  peindre 
"  des  objets  inanimes,  uniquement  propres  a  rejouir  agre- 
"  ablement  la  vue  sans  occuper  r  esprit"    [Hist,  de  T  Art 
chez  les  Anciens^  tome  ii.  p.  104.]    The  remark  seems  just. 
Men  and  manners,   were  the  only   objects  which   the 
Greeks  seem  to  have  thought  worth  regarding,  either  in 
painting,  or  poetry. 

£  2 


iC 


cc 


52  niSSERTAT  I  O  N   I. 

of  their  principal  works.  The  first,  and  the  only 
landscapes  he  mentions,  are  those  said  to  be 
painted  in  fresco  by  one  Ludius  in  the  time  of 
Augustus ;  "  <|ui  primus  instituit  amoenissimam 
**  parictum  picturam ; — villas,  &  porticus,  ac 
"  topiaria  opera — lucos^  nemora^  colles, — amneSy 

"  Uttora varias  ibi  obambulantium  species, 

**  aut  navigantium,  terraque  villas  adeuntiinn 
"  asellis  aut  vekiciilis,"'  &c. — He  likewise  painted 

seaports; — ''  idemque maritimas  urbes  pin- 

''  gere  instituit,  blandissimo  aspectu^."  He 
seems  to  have  been  the  Claude  Lorrain  of  antient 
painting.  But,  that  landscape  was  not,  even  hi 
Pliny's  time,  a  common  and  established  branch 
of  painting,  may  perhaps  be  presumed  from  the 
single  circumstance  of  its  not  having  acquired  a 
name.  In  the  passage  just  quoted,  Plmy  calls  it 
only,  periphi^stically,  **  an  agreeable  kind  of 
*'  painting,  or  subject,"  "  amcenissimam  pictu- 
"  ram"."  He  is  not  sparing  of  technical  terms 
upon  ojher  occasions ;  as,  rhyparographuSj  an- 
thropograpkus,    catagraphay   rnonocromata,    &c. 

With 


^  Plin.  Hist.  Nat.  xxxv.  lo. 

*  It  is  remarkable  also,  that  the  younger  Pliny,  where 
he  describes  the  view  from  one  of  his  villas,  and  com- 
pares it  to  a  painted  landscape,  expresses  himself,  pro- 
bably for  want  of  an  appropriated  term,  (such  as  paysage. 
Ice)  by  a  periphrasis; — ^^  formam  aliquam  ad  eximiam 
"  pulchrhud'inem pctam\' — i.e.  *<  a  beautiful  ideal  land- 
"  sca^e'^  Plin.  Ep,  lib,  v.  fp,  6. 


*/ 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art,         55 

With  respect  to  the  Greeks^  at  least,  this  may  be 
allowed  to  afford  somewhat  more  than  a  pre- 
sumption of  the  fact. 

The  Greek  Poets,  then,  did  not  describe  the 
scenery  of  nature  in  a  picturesque  manner, 
because  they  were  not  accustomed  to  see  it  with 
a  painter's  eye.  Undoubtedly  they  were  not 
blind  to  all  the  beauties  of  such  scenes;  but 
those  beauties  w'erc  not  heightened  to  them,  as 
they  are  to  us,  by  comparison  with  painting — 
witli  those  models  of  improved  dA\A  selected  ivdiure, 
which  it  is  the  business  of  the  landscape-painter 
to  exhibit  They  had  no  Thomsons,  .because 
they  had  no  Claudes.^  Indeed,  the  influence  of 
painting,  in  tliis  respect,  not  only  on  Poetry,  but 
on  the  general  taste  for  the  visible  beauties  of 
rural  nature,  seems  obvious  and  indisputable  J. 
Shew  the  most  beautiful  prospect  to  a  peasant, 
who  never  saw  a  landscape,  or  read  a  description : 
I  do  not  say  that  he  will  absolutely  feel  710  plea- 
sure from  it ;    but  I  will  venture  to  say,  that  the 

pleasure 


t  I  do  not  know  that  there  is,  either  in  the  Greek 
or  Roman  language,  any  single  term  appropriated  to 
express  exacdy  what  we  mean  by  a  prospect.  Pliny, 
in  the  epistle  referred  to  in  note%  and  in  the  17th 
of  2d  book,  has  frequent  occasion  for  such  a  term,  but 
is  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  circumlocution — rcgionis 
forma — regionis  situm--facieS'^facies  locorum.  "  Tot 
**  fades  locorum  totidem  fenestris  &  distinguit  &  miscet.'* 
[ii.  17,]  Ang^ — "  so  mzny  prospects,** 

E  3 


s* 


DISSERTATION    I, 


pleasure  he  will  feel  is  very  different  in  kind,  and 
very  inferior  in  degree,  compared  with  that  which 
is  felt  by  a  person  of  a  cultivated  imagination, 
accustomed  to  the  representation  of  such  objects' 
either  in   painting,   or   in   picturesque   Poetry.' 
Such  beauty  does  imitation  reflect  back  upon  the 
object  imitated".— What  may  serve  to  confirm 
the  truth  of  these  remarks,  is,  that  from  the  time 
of  Augustus,   when,  according  to  Pliny,   land- 
scape-painting was  first  cultivated,  descfiptions  of 
prospects,  picturesque  imagery,  and  allusions  to 
that  kind  of  painting,  seem  to  have  become  more 
common.    I  do  not  pretend,  however,  to  have 
accurately  examined  this  matter.     I  shall  only 
remind  the  reader  of  the  acknowledged  supe- 
riority of  Virgil  in   touches  of  tliis  kind;    of 
Pliny's  description  of   the  view  from  his  villa, 
mentioned   above ;    and  of  /Elian's  description 
of  the  Vale  of    Tempe,  and   his   allusion    to 
painting  in  tiie  introduction  to  it^. 

To  return  to  description  in  general ; —this,  as 
I  observed  above,  Aristotle  was  so  far  from'  in- 

4 

cludino^ 

-  o 


y  "Elegant  imitation  has  strange  powers  of  interest- 
"  ing  us  in  certain  views  of  nature.  These  we  con- 
"  sider  but  transiently,  till  the  Poet,  or  Painter,  awake 
«  our  attention,  and  send  us  back  to  life  with  a  new 
"  curiosity,  which  we  owe  entirely  to  the  copies  which 
"  they  lay  before  us."  Preface  to  Wood's  Essay  on 
Homer,  p.  13. 

•  See  above,  Part  I.  notC",  p.  14. 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art.  55 
eluding  hi  his  notion  of  imitation^  that  he  is  even 
totally  silent  concerning  it ;  unless  he  may  be 
ibougbt  slightly  to  allude  to  it  in  one  passage, 
where  he  recommends  it  to  the  Poet  to  reserve 
his  higliest  -coiouriag  of  language  for  the  inactive, 
tiiat  is,  the  Hierely  nanative,  or  desmptive,  parts 
of  his  poem  *.  Several  obvious  circumstances 
help  to  account  for  this  sileiKe.  Intent  on  tlie 
higher  precepts,  and  on  what  be  regarded  as  the 
more  essential  beauties  of  the  art— the  internal 
construction  and  contrivance  of  the  fable,  the 
artful  dependence  and  close  connection  of  the 
incidents,  the  union  of  the  wonderful  and  the 
probable,  the  natural  delineation  of  character  and 
passion,  and  whatever  tended  most  effectually  to 
arrest  the  attention,  and  secure  the  emotion,  of 
the  spectator  or  the  reader — intent  on  these,  he 
seems  to  have  thought  the  beauties  of  language 
and  expression  a  matter  of  inferior  consideration, 
scarce  worthy  of  his  attention.  The  chapters  on 
diction  seem  to  afford  some  proof  of  this.  The 
manner  in  which  he  has  treated  that  subject,  will 
be  found,  if  I  mistake  not,  to  bear  strong  marks 
of  this  comparative  negligence,  and  to  be,  in 
several  respects,  not  such  as  the  reader,  from  the 
former  parts  of  the  work,  w^ould  naturally  expect  ^ 

To 


Cap.xxiv.  Translation, Part  III.  Sect. 6.  SeethcNOTE. 
^  See  the  notes  on  that  part. 

E4 


S^  D  I  S  S  E  R  T  A  T  I  O  N    I. 

To  this  it  should  be  added,  that  Aristotles 
principal  object  was,  evidently,  Tragedy.  Now 
in  Tragedy,  where  the  Poet  himself  appears 
not,— where  all  is  action,  emotion,  imitation— 
where  the  succession  ©f  incidents  is  close  and 
rapid,  and  rarely  admits  those  d^yx  fjLt^n^  those 
*'  id/e  or  inactive  parts,'"  of  winch  the  philosopher 
speaks— there  is,  of  course,  but  little  occasion, 
and  little  room,  for  description.  It  is  in  the  open 
and  extended  plan,  the  varied  and  digressive  nar- 
ration, of  the  Epic  form,  that  the  descriptive 
powers  of  the  Poet  have  full  range  to  display 
themselves  within  tlieir  proper  province. 

I  have  attempted,  in  the  preceding  discussion, 
to  make  my  way  through  a  subject,  which  I  have 
never  seen  treated  in  a  manner  perfectly  clear 
and  satisfactory  by  others,  and  which  I  am  there- 
fore far  from  confident  that  I  have  treated  clearly 
myself.  I  can  only  hope  that  I  have,  at  least, 
left  it  less  embarrassed  than  I  found  it'.    I  shall 

venture, 


.  '  Some  writers,  by  imitation  understand  fiction  only  : 
others  explain  it  only  by  the  general  term  description ; 
and  others,  again,  give  it  a  greater  extent,  and  seem  to 
consider  language  as  imitating  whatever  it  can  express. 
[See  above,  note',  and  Harris  on  Music,  &c.  ch.  i.] 
Some  speak  of  it  as  the  imitation  of  nature,  in  general ; 
others  seem,  to  confine  it  to  the  imitation  of  la  belit 
nature, ^By  Sume  writers,  die  proposition,  that  «  all 

POETRY 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art,         57 

venture,  with  the  same  view,  to  terminate  this 
inquiry  by  a  few  remarks  on  the  origin  of  this 
doctrine  of  poetic  imitation. 

Its  history  may  be  sketched  in  few  words. — 
We  find  it  first  in  Plato  ;  alluded  to  in  many 
parts  of  his  works,  but  no  where  so  clearly  and 
particularly  developed,  asJn  the  third  and  tenth 
books  of  his  Republic,  Aristotle  followed; 
applymg7  and  pursuing  to  its  consequences,  with 
the  enlarged  view  of  a  philosopher  and  a  critic, 
the  principle  which  his  master  had  considered 
with  the  severity  of  a  moral  censor,  and  had  de- 
scribed, as  we  describe  an  impostor  or  a  robber, 
only,  that  being  known,  it  might  be  avoided  •*. 

From  these  sources,  but  principally  from  the 
treatise  of  Aristotle,  this  doctrine  was  derived,  ^ 
through  the  later  antient,  to  the  latest  modem 
writers.  In  general,  however,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, that  the  way  in  which  the  subject  has 
been  explained  is  not  such  as  is  calculated  to  give 

perfect 


•* 


POETRY  is  imitation,"  is  considered  as  too  plain  a 
point  t©  need  any  explanation ;  while  others  are  unable 
10  see  why  any  Poetry,  except  the  dramatic  only,  should 
be  so  denominated.  [See  Wood's  Essay  on  Homer, 
p.  240,  octavo,  and  the  note.] 


^  The  chief  objections  of  Plato  to  imitative  Poetry, 
particulaily  Tragedy,  may  be  seen  in  the  loth  book  of  his 
Repubhc,  from  v^aTToyrai,  ^ofxev,  av9^u7nti —  p.  603,  C. 
to  iufxp]fM,  p.  608,  B.  Ed,  Serranu 


/ 


5^  DISSERTATION    I. 

perfect  satisfactioo  to  those  fastidious  under- 
standings that  ftre  not  to  be  contented  with  any- 
thing less  than  distinct  ideas;  that,  like  the  sun- 
dial in  the  fable,  allow  o/  no  medium  between 
knowing  clearly,  and  knowing  nothing. 

Si  je  ne  vois  bien  clair,  je  dis— Je  n'en  scais  rien*. 

It  is  one  question,  in  what  senses,  and  from 
what  original  ideas.  Poetry  was  first  called 
imitation  by  Plato  and  Aristotle  :  and  anoTher, 
what  senses  may  have  suggested  themselves  to 
modem  writers,  who  finding  Poetry  denominated 
an  imitative  art,  instead  of  carefully  investigat- 
ing the  original  meaning  of  the  expression,  have 
^  had  recourse,  for  its  explication,  to  their  own 
ideas,  and  have,  accordingly,  extended  it  to  every 
sense  which  the  widest  and  most  distant  analogy 
would  bear. 

With  respect  to  the  origin  of  the  appellation— 
the  very  idea  that  Poetry  is  imitation,  may,  I 

^!^]2fe  .^^^^^"%  be  traced  to  the  theatre  j^to 

it&«-Qa|ural  source;    and  it  may,  perhaps,  very 

/  reasonably  be  questioned,  whether,  if  the  drama 

1  had  never  been   invented.   Poetry   w^ould    ever 

^  have  been  placed  in  the  class  of  Imitative  Arts. 

/     I^-^L^^^U^"^^?  ^^^^  ^^  ideas^  of  Poetic 

I  imitation  chiefly  from  the  drama,  is  evident  from 

what  has  been  already  said.     His  preference, 

indeed, 


*  La  Montre  et  le  Quadran,  in  the  ingenious  and  philo- 
sophical fables  of  La  Motte.   Livre  iii.  fab.  2. 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  ImiUitive  Art.  go 

indeed,  of  dramatic  Poetry,  is  not  only  openly 
declared  in  his  concluding  chapter,  but  strongly 
marked  throughout,  and  by  the  very  plan 
and  texture  of  his  work.  The  Epic — that 
"  greatest  work,"  as  Dryden  extravagantly  calls 
it,  '*  which  the  soul  of  man  is  capable  to  per- 
form V  is  slightly  touched  and  soon  dismissed. 
Our  eye  is  still  kept  on  Tragedy.  The  form  and 
features  of  the  Epic  iNIuse  are  rather  described 
by  comparison  with  those  of  her  sister,  than  de- 
lineated as  they  are  in  themselves ;  and  though 
that  preference  which  is  the  result  of  the  com- 
parison seems  justly  given  on  the  whole,  yet  it 
must,  perhaps,  be  confessed,  that  the  comparison 
is  not  completely  stated,  and  that  the  advantages 
and  privileges  of  the  Epic  are  touched  with  some 
reserve'.  It  is,  inideed,  no  wonder,  that  he,  who 
held  imitation  to  be  the  essence  of  Poetry,  should 

prefer 

^  Pref,  to  his  -^neid. 

f  For  example:— in  Part  III.  sect.  2.  [Orlg.  ch.  xxiv.] 
he  had  allowed  the  greater  extent  of  the  Epic  Poem  to 
give  it  an  advantage  over  Tragedy  in  point  of  variety 
and  magnificence.  But,  in  the  comparispn  between  them 
in  his  last  chapter,  this  important  advantage  is  entirely 
passed  over,  and  only  the  disadvantages  of  the  epic  ex- 
tent of  plan  are  mentioned ;  its  Variety,  the  want  of 
which  he  had  before  allowed  to  be  a  great  defect,  and 
even  a  frequent  cause  of  ill  success,  in  tragedy,  is  here 
stated  only  as  a  fault— as  want  of  unity,  [See  Part  V. 
sect.  3.  Ori^,  cap.  :^xvi.] 


1 


60  DISSERTATION    I. 

prefer  that  species  which,  being  more  strictly 
imitative,  was,  in  his  view,  more  strictly  Poetry, 
than  any  other. 

With  respect  to  Plato  the  case  is  still  plainer. 
In  the  third  book  of  his  Republic,  where  he 
treats  the  subject  most  fully,  and  is  most  clear 
and  explicit,  he  is  so  far  from  considering  '*  all 
Poetry''  as  imitation,  that  he  expressly  distin- 
guishes  imitative  Poetry  from  "  Poetry  without 
imitation^"   Nor  does  he  leave  us  in  any  uncer- 
tainty about  his  meaning.     His  imitative  Poetry 
is  no  other  than  that  which  I  have  called  person- 
ative,  and  which  the  reader  will  find  clearly  and 
precisely  described  in  the  passage  referred  to*. 
Imitation,  then,  he  confines  to  the  drama,  and  the 
dramatic  part  of  the  epic  poem ;   and  that,  which 
with  Aristotle  is  the  principaly  with  Plato  is  the 
only,  sense  of  imitation  applied  to  Poetry.     In 
short,  that  Plato  drew  his  idea  of  the  MIMH2IS 
X  of  Poetry  from  the  theatre  itself,  and  from  the 
personal  imitations    of  represe?2ted  -tragedy ,    is 
evident  from  the  manner  in  which  he  explains 
the  term,  and  from  the  general  cast  and  language 
of  all  Bis  illustrations  and  allusions, — '*  When  the 
"  Poet,''  he  says,  "  quitting  his  narration,  makes 
"  any  speech  in  the  character  of  another  person, 
"  does  he  not  then  assimilate,  as  much  as  pos- 
.    "  sible, 

Rep.  3.  ed,  Ser,  p.  393*   ^veu  (Mfinaeui  vocna-ii,  and 
//^.  X.  p.  605.  0  fMfjtrrriK^  tjoifrrn;* 

[  Rep.  3,  from  D.  p.  392,  to  D.  p.  394.  ed,  Scr. 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art.  61 

"  sible,  his  language  to  that  of  the  person  intro- 

*'  duced  as  speaking? — Certainly. — But  to  assi- 

"  milate  one  s  self  to  another  person,  either  in 

"  VOICE  or  GESTURE — is  not  this  to  imitate 

"  that  person  "^  r"     And  in  many  other  passages 

we  find  the  same  allusion  to  the  imitations,  by 

voice  and  action,  of  the  actor  and  the  rhapsodist; 

and  even  to   ludicrous  mimicry   of  the   lowest 

kind\ 

All 


^  Axx*  oTov  yi  Tiva,  X£y»j  prjaiv  a;  ng  a>^^  «v,  ap  ob  tots 
i/twisv  ainov  (frnjofiiv  oTifjux>drci  Tnv  aura  Aelii  htara  ov  oaf  'Sf^oeiTTYi  - 
iig  iowTa ; — ^r\70(xiv'    ti  ya^  k  -r^OvKnv  to   yz  o/jloihv  lavTOV 
«^^6),   If   MLTOi  ^UNHN,    h  xaTO.   2XHMA,  fHfjieidQai  krif 
sKsivov  a  av  Tig  ofMm ;    Rep.  3,  p.  393-  ^^»  Serran. 

^  Ibid.  p.  395 — KOLTa  XnMA  kou  $1INA2« — p.  397, 
Xffi;  lia  /jufxwiti;  ^XINAIS  te  kui  SXHMA2L  The  reader 
may  also  sec  p.  396  and  397  ;  in  both  which  places  he 
alludes  even  to  the  lowest  and  most  ridiculous  kind  of 
mimicry.  The  passages  are  so  curious  and  amusing, 
that  the  reader  will  pardon  me  if  I  suffer  them,  in  a  note, 
to  lead  me  into  a  short  digression.  He  speaks  in  them 
of  imitating,  or,  as  we  call  it,  taking  off,  "  the  neighing 
*'  of  horses,  and  the  bellowing  of  oulls— thei,  sound  of 
*^  thunder,  the  roaring  of  the  sea  and  the  winds — the 
tones  of  the  trumpet,  the  flute,  and  all  sorts  of  instru- 
ments— the  barking  of  dogs,  the  bleating  of  sheep, 
",  and  the  singing  of  birds — the  rattle  of  a  shower  of 
**  ^m7,and  the  rumbling  of  wheels. ^^ — The  sublime  Plato 
was  not  always  sublime. — The  expressions  here  are  too 
strong  to  be  understood  merely  of  the  imitations  of 
poetical  description  i^  they  are  applicable  only  to  vocal 

mimicry. 


ti 


a 


X 


62  DISSERTATION!. 

All  this  will  scarce  appear  strange  or  surprisintr 
if  we  recollect  the  close  connection  which  then 
subsisted  between  poetical  and  personal  imitation. 
It  was  by  ntymeans  with  the  antients  as  it  is  with 
us.      Before   the   multiplication   of  copies  was 

facilitated 


mimicry.     Were  there  any  doubt  of  this,  it  might  be 
sufficiently  removed  by  other  passages  of  antient  authors 
in  which  similar  feats  are  recorded.     Plutarch,  [De  aud. 
Pott,  ed.  H.  Steph.  p.  31.]  commenting  upon  Aristotle's 
distinction,  Part  I.  §  5,  between  the  pleasure  we  receive 
from  the  imitation,  and  that  which  we  receive  from  tlic 
real  object,  observes,  that—"  though  the  grunting  of  a 
'«  hog,  the  rattle  of  wheels,  the  whisding  of  the  wind, 
'*  and  the  roaring  of  the  sea,  for  instance,  are  sounds^' 
**  in  themselves  offensive  and  disagreeable,  yet  when  we 
**  hear  them  well  and  naturally  imitated,  they  give  us 
«  pleasure,''    And  he  records  the  names  of  two  eminent 
performers  in  this  way,  Parmeno,  and  Theodorusr,  the  first 
of  whom  possessed  the  grunt  of  the  hog,  and  the  other 
the   rattle   of  the  wheel,   in   high    perfection. — This 
Theodorus  was,    probably,  a  different  person  from  the 
tragic  actor  of  the  same  name,  whose  vocal  talents  of  a 
higher  kind  are  mentioned  by  Aristotle  in  his  Rhetoric, 
(lib.  iii.  cap.  I.)  and  who  was  eminent  for  the  power  of 
accommodatmg  the  tone  of  his  voice  to  the  various  cha- 
racters he  represented.     «  The  voice,"  says  the  philo- 
sopher, "of  Theodorus  appears  always  to  be  that  of 
*'  the  very  person  supposed  to  speak  :  not  so  the  voices 
*'  of  other  actors."     In  order  fully  to  understand  which 
praise,  it  is  necessary  to  recollect,  that  this  vocal  flexibility 
in  an  actor  had  far  greater  room  to  display  itself  among 
4  '  the 


* 


^5 


On  Poetry  considered  as  oH  Imitative  Art*     > 

facilitated  by  the  invention  of  printing,  reading 
w»as  uncommon.  It  was  not  even  till  long  after, 
that  it  became,  in  any  degree,  the  general  practice, 
as  it  ii?  now.  Yet  Poetry,  we  knovr,  among  the 
Greeks,  was  the  common  food  even  of  the  vulgar. 

But 

-Hr ^^■— ^ |.  .  —  ..    .,       -  ■-■■■,,„  -         ■  -        ■-,■  -      ^^^^—  III!      I— 

the  antients,  than  it  has  with  us,  on  account  of  the  exclu- 
sion of  women  from  their  stage,  v  Hence  one  of  the 
objections  of  Plato  to  the  admission  of  dramatic  Poetry 
into  his  Republic  :  «  ^  emr^e^ofitv  uv  ^ofisv  xri^ea-^ai,  xai 
hiv  ainn;  M^ag  ayaQag  ymaOai,  FTNAIKA  MIMEI20AI, 

ANAPA2    ONTAS.  x.  t.  aX.    [J^ep.  3.  p.  395,  D.]- 

a  passage  which  may  also  serve  to  confirm  what  Has 
been  asserted,  that  Plato,  in  speaking  of  Poetry  as  imi- 
tation, constandy  kept  his  eye  on  the  personal  imitation 
of  the  actor  or  the  rhapsodist. — To  ryurn  to  the  art  of 
vocal  mimicry  : — 'the  passages  above  produced  shew  it 
to  have  been  of  very  respectable  antiquity.  But  there 
are  two  other  passages  thai  make  it  still  more  venerable; 
one  in  the  hymn  to  Apollo  attributed  to  Homer,  v,  162, 
3,  4,— where  the  musical  imitations  of  the  Delian  virgins 
are  described  ;  (see  Dr.  Burney's  Hist,  of  Music,  vok  i. 
p.  372.)  and  another  very  curious  passage  in  the 
Odyssey,  A.  279,  by  which  it  appears,  that  the  art  was 
practised  even  in  the  Trojan  times,  and  that  the  beauteous 
Helen  herself,  among  her  other  charms,  possessed  the 
talent  of  vocal  mimicry  in  a  degree  that  would,  in  modern 
limes,  have  qualified  her  to  make  no  inconsiderable  figure 
at  Bartholomew-fair.  She  is  described  as  walking  round 
the  wooden  horse,  after  its  admission  within  the  walls  of 
Troy, calling,  by  name,  upon  each  of  the  Grecian  chiefs, 
and  "  imitating  the  voices  of  their  wives,'' — -ILcvT-ajv  A^biuv 


T:, 

64  DISSERTATION    I. 

But  they  heard  it  only.  The  philosopher,  the 
critic,  and  the  few  who  collected  books  when 
they  could  be  obtained  only  by  the  labour  or 
expence  of  transcription,  might,  indeed,  take  a 
tragedy  or  an  epic  poem  into  their  closets ;  but, 
to  the  generality,  all  was  action,  representation, 

and 

^wvrjv  laKad  a}^oxoi(J'i.  And  so  well  did  she  take  them  offy 
that  their  husbands  were  on  the  point  of  betraying  them- 
selves by  answering,  or  coming  out.  Anticlus,  in  par- 
ticular, would  have  spoken,  if  Ulysses  had  not,  by  main 
force,  stopped  his  mouth  with  his  handy  till  Minerva  came 
to  their  relief,  and  took  Helen  away. 

600:  Oh<Ttu;  Em  MA2TAKA  XEPSI  HIEZE 

NXIAEMEHI  KPATEPHI2I,  (ra«cr£  Je  TsaYTocq  A^a^sf  !— 

Od.  A.  287,  8. 

A  line  added  in  Pope's  translation  of  this  passage, 
affords  a  curious  example  of  misapplied  ornament : — 

Firm  to  his  lips  his  forceful  hands  apply*d, 
Till  on  his  tongue  the  Jiutt* ring  murmurs  dy*d, 

B.  iv.v.  391. 

—  one  instance  out  of  many  that  might  be  quoted,  of 
the  ridiculous  effect  produced,  (especially  in  the  Odyssey,) 
by  continual  efforts  to  elevate  what  neither  should  nor  can 
be  elevated.  In  the  version  of  the  i6th  book,  (a  version 
approved  at  least  by  Mr.  Pope)  we  have  this  line : 

They  reach'd  the  dome  j  the  dome  with  marble  shirCd, 

'    v.  41. 

—  who  would  suspect  this  to  be  a  description  of  the 
rude  building  which  Eumasus,  "  airr©-  hifxo^  iscrffiv}  '* 
[Lib.  xiv.  8.]  All  that  is, to  be  found  of  this  marble  dome 
la  Homer  is  a  ^^  stone  threshold,^' — yTre^^n  ^cuvov  i^ov !   v. 41. 


On  Poetry  considered  as  an  Imitative  Art.  65 

and  recital.  The  tragic,  and  even  the  epic  poet, 
were,  in  a  manner,  lost  in  the  actor  and  the  rhap- 
sodist  °.  A  tragedy  not  intended  for  the  stage, 
would  have  appeared  to  the  antients  as  great  an 
absurdity  as  an  ode  not  written  for  music.  With 
theniy  there  could  be  no  difBculty  in  conceiving 
Poetry  to  be  an  Imitative  Arty  when  it  was 
scarce  known  to  them  but  through  the  visible 
medium  of  arts,  strictly  and  literally,  mimetic. 

°*  The  rhapsodist  was  defined  to  be,  the  actor  of  an  epic 
Poem.  Va^ui^oi — uttok^itm  hruv,  Hesych, — Fa^^u^a — bi  ra 
Oft>jf«  tTTri  h  T012  0EATPOIS  a7rayye>^vrBg. — Suidas. 
"  Homer^s  Poems,**  says  the  ingenious  and  entertaining 
author  of  the  Enquiry  into  the  Life  and  Writings  of  Homer  y 
"  were  made  to  be  recited^  or  sung  to  a  company  \  and 
"  not  read  in  private,  or  perused  in  a  book,  which  few 
"  were  then  capable  of  doing  :  and  I  will  venture  to 
"  affirm,  tJiat  whoever  reads  not  Homer  in  thi%  vieWy 
**  loses  a  great  part  of  the  delight  he  might  receive  from 
^  the  Poet." — Blackweirs  Enquiry,  &c.  p.  122. 


I 


VOL.  I. 


#  '-§ 


I    66    ] 


DISSERTATION    II. 


ON  THE   DIFFERENT  SENSES  OF  THE 

WORD,   IMITATIVE, 

AS  APPLIED  TO  MUSIC  BY  THE  ANTIENTS, 

AND    BY   THE   MODERNS. 

'T^H  E  whole  power  of  Music  may  be  reduced, 

-^     I  think,  to  three  distinct  effects ; — upon  the 

ear,  the  passions ,  and  the  imagination:  in  other 

words,  it  may  be  considered  as  simply  delighting 

the  sense,  as  raising  emotions,  or,  as  raising  ideas. 

The  two  last  of  these  effects  constitute  the  whole 

of  what  is    called   the   inoral*,    or  expressive, 

power  of  Music ;  and  in  these  only  we  are  to 

look  for  anything  that  can  be  called  imitation. 

Music  can  be  said  to  imitate,  no  farther  than  as 

it  expresses  sometliing.     As  far  as  its  effect  is 

merely  physical,  and  confined  to  the  ear,  it  gives 

a  simple,  original  pleasure  ;  it  expresses  nothing, 

it  rejirs  to   nothing ;    it  is  no  more  imitative 

than    the  smell  of  a  rose,  or  the  flavour  of  a 

pine-apple. 

Music 

*  Afcra/,  merely  as  opposed  to  physical : — as  affecting 
the  mind',  not  as  Et/iic,  or  influencing  the  manners. 


On  the  fVord  Imitative,  as  applied  to  Music.       67 
R[usic  can  raise  ideas,  immediately  \  only  by 
the  actual  resemblance  of  its  sounds  and  motions 
to  the  sounds  and  motions  of  the  thing  suggested  \ 
Such  Music  we  call  imitative,  in  the  same  sense 
in  which  we  apply  the  word  to  a  similar  resem* 
blance  of  sound  and  motion  in  poetry'.    In  both 
cases,  the  resemblance,  though  immediate,  is  so 
imperfect,  that  it  cannot  be  seen  till  it  is,  in  some 
sort,  pointed  out ;  and  even  when  it  is  so,  is  not 
always  very  evident.     Poetry,  indeed,  has  here  a 
great  advantage ;  it  carries  with  it,  of  necessity, 
its  ow  n  explanation  :  for  the  same  word  that  imi- 
tates by  its  sound,  points  out,  or  hints,  at  least, 
the  imitation,  by  \Xs  meaning.     With  Music  it  is 

not 


*  Music  may  raise  ideas  immediately ,  by  mere  association ; 
but  I  pass  over  the  effects  of  this  principle,  (important 
and  powerful  as  it  is,  in  Music,  as  in  everything  else,) 
as  having  nothing  to  do  with  imitation.  If,  to  raise  an 
idea  of  any  obje«t  by  casual  association,  be  to  imitate, 
any  one  thing  may  imitate  any  other. 

I  inserted  the  word,  immediately,  because  Music  has 
also  a  power  of  raising  ideas,  to  a  certain  degree,  through 
the  medium  of  emotions,  which  naturally  suggest  corres- 
pondent ideas  ;  that  is,  such  ideas  as  usually  raise  suck 
emotions.  [See  Harris,  on  Music,  &:c.  ch.  vi.  and  below, 
note  •.] 

^  See  Harris,  ibid,  ch,  ii.  where  this  subject  is  treated 
with  the  author's  usual  accuracy  and  clearness. 

•  See  Dissert,  I. 

r  2 


» 


68  D  I  8  S  E  R  T  A  T  I  O  N    ir. 

not  so.  It  must  call  in  the  assistance  of  language, 
or  something  equivalent  to  language,  for  its 
interpreter  *•.  , 

Of  all  tlie  powers  of  Music,  this  of  raising 
ideas  by  direct  resemblance  is  confessed  to  be 
the  weakest,  and  the  least  important.  It  is, 
indeed,  so  far  from  teing  essential  to  the  pleasure 
of  the  art,  that  unless  used  with  great  caution, 
judgment,  and  delicacy,  it  will  destroy  tlmt 
pleasure,  by  becoming,  to  every  competent  judge, 
offensive,  or  ridiculous.  It  is,  however,  to  Music 
oithis  kind  only  that  Mr.  Harris,  and  most  other 
modem  writers,  allow  the  word  imitative  to  be 

applied. 


•*  When  the  idea  to  be  raised  is  that  of  a  visible  object, 
the  imitation  of  that  object  by  painting,  machinery,  or 
other  visible  representation,  may  answer  the  same  end.— 
A  visible  object  strongly  characterized  by  motion,  may  be 
suggested  by  such  musical  motion  as' is  analogous  to  it. 
Thus,  a  rapid  elevation  of  sounds,  bdars,  or  at  least  is 
conceived  to  bear,  some  analogy  to  the  motion  of  flame  i— 
but  this  analogy   must  be   pointed  out—"  II  faut   que 
"  Taudlteur  soit   avcrti,  ou  par  les  paroles,  ou  par  le 
**  spectacle,   ou    par   quelque    chose   d'equivalent,    qu^'l 
''  doit   substituer  Pidee  du  feu  a   cclle  du   son:'     See 
M.  Dalembert's  Melanges  de  Literature,  vol  v,p.  158,— 
where  the  philosophical  reader  will,  perhaps,  be  pleased 
with  some  very  ingenious  and  uncommon  observations, 
on  the  manner  in  which  the  imitative  expression  even  of 
Alusic  without  words,  m.ay  be  influenced  by  the  phrase^ 
ology  of  the  language  in  which  the  hearer  thinks. 


On  the  Wnrd  Imitative,  as  applied  to  Music,       69 

applied  ^  The  highest  power  of  Music,  and  that 
from  which  ''  it  derives  its  greatest  efficacy,"  is, 
undoubtedly,  its  power  of  raising  emotions.  But 
this  is  so  far  from,  being  regarded  by  them  as 
imitation ^  that  it  is  expressly  opposed  to  it^. 

The  ideas,  and  the  language,  of  the  antients,  on 
this  subject,  were  different.  When  thi^i/  speak \ 
of  Music  as  imitation,  they  appear  to  have  solely, 
or  chiefly,  in  view,  its  power  over  the  affections. 
By  imitatio7i,  they  mean,  in  short,  w  hat  xve  com- 
monly distinguish  from  imitation,  and  oppose  to 
it,  under  the  general  term  of  expression '.  With 
respect  to  Aristotlf,  in  particular,  this  will 
clearly  appear  from  a  few  passages  which  T  shall 
produce  from  another  of  his  writings  ;  and,  at 
the  same  time,  the  expressions  made  use  of  in 
these  passages,  will  help  us  to  accoiwt  for  a  mode 
of  speaking  so  different  from  that  of  modern 
writers  on  the  subject. 

What 

-  '  .*' 

*  Dr.  Beattic,  On  Poetry  and  Music,  p.  138,  &c passim.'^ 
Lord  Kaims,  El,  of  Crit.  vol,  ii.  p,  i.  Avison,  &c. — • 
There  is  but  one  branch  of  this  imitation  of  sound  by 
sound,  that  is  really  important ;  and  that  has  been 
generally  overlooked.  I  mean,  the  igtiitation  of  the 
tones  of  speech. — Of  this,  presendy. 

'  Harris,  On  Music,  Sec,  p.  69,  99,  100. 

*  "  If  we  compare  imitation  with  expression,  tlie 
•'  superiority  of  the  latter  will  be  evident." — Dr.  Beattie, 
On  Poetry  and  Music,  p.  139,  140,  &c, — Avison,  on  Mus, 
Expression^  Part  II.  §  3.  " 

F3 


7©  DISSERTATION    II. 

What  Aristotle,  in  the  beginning  of  his  treatise 
on  Poetry*,  calls  MIMH2I2 — imitation*— he 
elsewhere,  in  the  same  application  of  it,  to  MusiCy 
calls 'OMOIXIMA — resemblance.  And  he,  also, 
clears  up  his  meaning  farther,  by  adding  the  thing 
resembled  OY  imitated^: — oixoiuixix  TOIS  H0ESI — 
efjLoiu)iJt.arx  TX2N  HGHN  *  —  "  resemblance  to 
human  matmevsy'  i.  e.  dispositions,  or  tempers ; 
for  what  he  means  by  tliese  tJSn,  he  has,  likewise, 
clearly  explained  by  these  expressions — oixoicaiAUToc 

OVTHX  xa*  nPA0THT02-  it*  f  ANAPIA2  xai 
i:n€»P02:rNHS,  cS:c.  "  resemblances  of  the  irascible 
"  and  the  gentle  disposition — of  fortitude  and 
"  temperance,  &c."^  This  resemblance,  he  ex- 
pressly  tells  us,    is    "  in   the   rln/th7?i  and  the 

melody : " 


See  S^ct,  I.  of  the  translation. 


fUfjLnffu^,  — 


**  In  the  saiy^e  passage  he  uses  the  word  fjufxiyjui,  as 
synonymous  with  opuiu^, 

*  Arist.  de  Repub.  lib.  viii.  cap.  5,  p.  455,  Ed.  Duval. 
Plato  uses  fjufxiyxara  TPOnXlN  in  the  same  sense.  Di  leg, 
lib.  ii.  p.  655,  Ed,  Scr, 

^  The  word,  ^ffrj,  taken  in  its  utmost  extent,  includes 
everything  that  is  habitual  and  characteristic ;  but  it  is 
often  used  in  a  limited  sense,  for  the  habitual  temper ^  or 
disposition.  That  it  is  here  used  in  th'at  sense  appears 
from  Aristotle's  own  explanation.  I  therefore  thought 
it  necessary  to  fix  the  sense  of  the  word  manners,  which 
has  the  same  generality  as  r,fi»?,  and  is  its  usual  translation, 
bj  adding  the  words  "  disj>ositions  or  tempers*** 


On  the  fVord  Imitative,  as  applied  to  Music.         7 1 

melody:''' — ifAOiUfxaTx h    tok  PT0MOI2  xai 

TOif  MEAEIIN,  o^yu?  xatt  -ur^oLornT^^K  In  these 
passages,  Aristotle  dificrs  only  in  the  7iwde  of 
expression  from  Mr.  Harris,  when  he  affirms  that 
**  tliere  are  sounds  to  make  us  chearful  or  sad^ 
"  martial  or  /e;?^tr,"  Sec."":— from  Dr.  Beattie, 
when  he  says,  "  Music  may  inspire  devotion; 
"  fortitude,  compassion  ; — may  infuse  a  sor- 
"  row,''  &c." 

It  appears  then,  in  the  Jirst  place,  that  Music, 
considered  as  affecting,  or  raising  emotions,  was 
called  imitation  by  the  antients,  because  they 
perceived  in  it  that  which  is  essential  to  all 
imitation,  and  is,  indeed,  often  spoken  of  as  the 
same   thing — resemblance"".     This   resemblance, 

however, 

*  The  same  expressions  occur  in  the  Problems, 
Sect.  xix.   Prob.  29  and  27. 

"*  Chap.  vi. 

"  On  Poet,  and  Afus.  p.  167. — ^In  another  place 
Dr.  Beattie  approaches  very  near  indeed  to  the  language  of 
Aristotle;  he  says,  **  After  all,  it  must  be  acknowledged, 
*'  that  there  is  some  relation,  at  least,  or  analogy,  if  not 
"  SIMILITUDE,  between  certain  musical  sounds,  and 
"  mental  affections,  &c,"  [p.  143.] 

•  "  Imitations,  or  resemblances,  of  something  else." 
[Hutcheson*s  Inquiry  into  the  Orig.  of  our  Ideas  of 
Beauty,  &c.  p.  15.]  *'  Taking  imitation  in  iti proper  sense, 
•*  as  importing  a  resemblance  between  two  objects. 
[Lorrd  Kaims,  EL  of  Crit.  ch  xviii.  §  3.]  Imitation, 
indeed,  necessarily  implies  resemblance ;  but  the  converse 
is  not  true. 

F4 


9> 


7^  DISSERTATIOKII. 

however,  as  here  stated  by  Aristotle,  cannot  be 
immediate^;  for  between  sounds  themselves,  and 
vterital  affections,  there  can  be  no  resemblance. 
The  resemblance  can  only  be  a  resemblance  of 
2\  effect ;— the  general  emotions,  tempers,  or  feelings 
produced  in  us  by  certain  sounds,  are  like  those 
that  accompany  actual  grief,  joy,  anger,  &c. — 
And  this,  as  far,  ^i  least,  as  can  be  collected 
from  the  passage  in  question,  appears  to  be  all 
that  Aristotle  meant. 

But,  secondly ;— the  expressions  of  Music  con- 
sidered in  itself,  and  xvithout  words,  are,  (within 
^  certain  limits,)  vague,  general,  and  equivocal. 
What  is4jsually  called  its  power  over  the  passio7jSf 
IS,  in  fact,  no  more  than  a  power  of  raisiufr  a 
general  emotion,  temper,  or  disposition,  common 
to  several  different,  though  related,  passions ;  as 
pity,  love— anger,  courage,  &c.  ^  The  effect  of 
wordsy  is,  to  strengthen  the  expression  of  Music, 
by  confining  it — by  giving  it  a  precise  direction, 
supplying  it  with  ideas,  circumstances,  and  an 
object,  and,  by  this  means,  raising  it  from  a  calm 
and  general  disposition,  or  emotion,  into  some- 
thing approaching,  at  least,  to  the  stronger  feeling 
of  a  particular  and  determinate  passion.     Now, 


amontr 


'   ScG  Dissert.  I,  first  pages. 

^  The  expression  of  Aristotle  seems  therefore  accurate 
and  philosophical.  It  is  everywhere— o/xo»w/m«  H0nN, — 
not  riAeriN — a  resemblance  "  to  manners,  or  tempers/* 
Hot  ^^  to  passions,'* 


I 


On  the  Word  Imitative ^  as  applied  to  Music.        73 

among  the  antients,  Music,  it  is  well  known,  was 
scarce  ever  heard  without  this  assistance.  Poetry 
and  Music  were  then  far  from  having  reached 
that  state  of  mutual  independence,  and  separate 
improvement,  in  which  they  have  now  been  long 
established.  When  an  ancient  writer  speaks  of 
Music,  he  is,  almost  always,  to  be  understood  to 
mean  vocal  Music — Music  and  Poetry  united. 
This  helps  greatly  to  account  for  the  application 
of  the  term  imitative,  by  Aristotle,  Plato,  and 
other  Greek  writers,  to  mnsicdX expression,  which 
modern  writers  oppose  to  musical  imitation.  That 
emotions  ai^e  raised  by  Music,  independently  of 
words,  is  certain';  and  it  is  as  certain  that  these 
emotions  resemble  those  of  actual  passion,  tem- 
per, &c. — But,  in  the  vague  and  indeterminate 
assimilations  of  M[usic  purely  instrumental,  though 
the  effect  is  felt,  and  the  emotion  raised,  the  idea 
of  resemblance  is  far  from  being  necessarily  sug- 
gested ;  much  less  is  itlikely,  that  such  resemblance, 
if  it  did  occur,  having  no  precise  direction,  should 
be  considered  as  imitation\    Add  words  to  this. 

Music, 

'  This  is  expressly  allowed  by  Aristode  in  the  Problem 
which  will  presently  be  pro(1uced : — km  yof  iav  ri  ANET 
AOrOT  /uA®-,  of4Mi  fx«  H0O5:. 

'  1  observed  {Note  *)  that  Music  is  capable  of  raising 
ideas,  to  a  certain  degree,  through  the  medium  of  those 
amotions  which  it  raises  immediately.  But  this  is  an  effect 
io  delicate  and  uncertain — so  dependent  on  the  fancy,  the 

sensjibilty^ 


I 


\ 

V 


/ 


74  D  ISS  E  R  TAT  I  O  K    H, 

Music,  and  the  case  will  be  very  different  There 
is  now  a  precise  object  of  comparison  presented 

to 


sensibility,  the  musical  experience,  and  even  the  tem- 
porary dispo  ition,  of  the  hearer,  that  to  call  it  imitation, 
is  surely  going  beyond  the  bounds  of  all  reasonable  ana- 
logy.   Mtsic,  here,  is  not  imitative,  but  if  I  may  hazard 
the  expression,  merely  suggestive.     But,  whatever  we 
may  call  it,  this  I  will  venture  to  say,— that  in  the  best 
mstrumental  Music,   expressively  performed,  the   verv 
indecision  itself  of  the  expression,  leaving  the  hearer  to 
the  free  operation  of  his  emotion  upon  his/ancy,  and,  as 
•  It  were,  to  the  free  c/ioiee  of  such  ideas  as  are,  to  him,  mdst 
adapted  to  react  upon  and  heighten  the  emotion  which 
occasioned  them,  produces  a  pleasure,  which  nobody, 
I  believe,  who  is  able  to  feel  it,  will  deny  to  be  one  of 
the  most  delicious  that  Music  is  capable  of  affording. 
But  far  the  greater  part  even  ef  those  who  have  an  ear 
for  Music,  have  onlysm  ear-,  and  to  them  this  pleasure  i$ 
unknown.—The  complaint,  so  common,  of  the  sepa- 
ration of  Poetry  and  Music,  and  of  the  total  want  of 
meaning  and  expression  in  instrumental  Music,  was  never, 
I  believe,  the   complaint  of  a   man   of  true   musical 
feeling :  and  it  might,  perhaps,  be  not  unfairly  concluded, 
that  Aristotle,  who  expressly  allows  that  "  Music,  even 
without  words,  has  expression,''  [See  the  Problem  below]  ^' 
was  more  of  a  musician  than  his  master  Plato,  who  is 
fond  of  railing  at  instrumental  Music,  and  asks  with 
Fontenelle,— **  Sonate,  que  me  veux  tu  l^-^isayxayiTrov, 
anv  Xoya  yifi'CfAeioy  puQfiov  ts  km  U^fMviav  yiyiviTHSiv,  'O,  TI 
BOTAETAl.  I>eLegA'up,66g.  [The  story  dfFontenelle 
is  well  known— «Je  n'oublierai  jamais,"  says  Rousseau, 
.     "  la  saijlie  du  celebre  Fonlenelle,  qui  se  trouvant  excede 
4  .  «  de 


' 


On  the  fVtrd  Imitative ,  as  applied  to  Music.       75 

to  the  mind ;  the  resemblance  is  pointed  out ;  the 
thing  imitated  is  before  us.  Farther,  one  prin- 
cipal use  of  Music  in  the  time  of  Aristotle,  was 
to  accompany  dramatic  Poetry — that  Poetry 
which  is  most  peculiarly  and  strictly  imitative\ 
and  where  manners  and  passions  (n'flti  x«i  TD-a^rj)  are 
peculiarly  the  objects  of  imitation. 

It  is,  then,  no  wonder,  that  the  Antients,  ac- 
customed to  hear  the  expressions  of  Music  thus 
constantly  specijied,  (Jetermined,  and  referred  to  a 
precise  object  by  the  ideas  of  Poetry,  should 
view  them  in  the  light  of  imitations ;  and  that 
even  in  speaking  of  Music,  properly  so  called,  as 
Aristotle  does,  they  should  be  led  by  this  asso- 
ciation to  speak  of  it  in  the  same  terms,  and  to 
attribute  to  it  powers,  which,  in  its  separate  state, 
do  not,  in  strictness,  belong  to  it.    With  respect, 

however, 


<•  de  ces  eternelles  symphonies,  s*ecria  tout  haut  dans  un 
"  transport  d'impatience :  Sonate,  que  me  veux  tuP'* 
Diet,  de  Mus. — Sonate.]  I  would  by  no  means  be 
understood  to  deny,  that  there  is  now,  and  has  been  at 
all  times,  much  unmeaning  trash  composed  for  instru- 
ments, that  would  justly  provoke  such  a  question.  I 
mean  only  to  say,  what  has  been  said  for  me  by  a 
superior  judge  and  master  of  the  art : — *'  There  is  some 
"  kind,  even  of  instrumental  music,  so  divinely  com- 
*'  posed,  and  so  ^expressively  performed,  that  it  wants  no 
"  words  to  explain  its  meaning." — Dr.  Burney's  Hist, 
of  Music,  vol.  i.  p.  85. 

'  j:)iss.  I. 


7^  DISSE  RTaTION    II. 

however,  even  to  the  instrumenial  Music  of  those 
times,  it  should  be  remembered,  that  we  cannot 
properly  judge  of  it  by  our  awn,  nor  suppose  it  to 
have  been,  in  that  simple  state  of  the  art,  what 
it  is  now,  in  its  state  of  separate  improvement 
and  refinement.  It  seems  highly  probable  that 
the  Music  of  the  antients,  even  in  performances 
merely  instrumental,  retained  much  of  its  vocal 
style  and  character,  and  would  therefore  appear 
more  imitative  than  our  instrumental  Music: 
and  perhaps,  after  all,  a  Greek  Solo  on  the  flute, 
or  the  cithara,  was  not  much  more  than  a  son^^ 
without  the  words,  embellished  here  and  there 
with  a  little  embroidery,  or  a  few  sprinklings  of 
simple  arpeggio,  such  as  the  fancy,  and  the 
fingers,  of  the  player  could  supply. 

But  there  is  another  circumstance  that  deserves 
to  be  considered.  Dramatic  Music  is,  often, 
strictly  imitative.  It  imitates,  not  only  the  effect 
of  the  words,  by  exciting  correspondent  emotions, 
but  also  the  words  themselves  immediately,  by 
tones,  accents,  inflexions,  intervals,  and  rhythmical 
movements,  similar  to  those  of  speech.  That 
this  was  peculiarly  the  character  of  the  dramatic 
Music  of  the  antients,  seems  highly  probable, 
not  only  from  what  is  said  of  it  by  anticnt  authors, 
but  from  what  we  know  of  their  Music  in  general-, 
of  their  scales,  their  genera,  their  fondness  for 
chromatic  and  enharmonic  intervals,  which  ap- 
proach so  nearly  to  those  sliding  and  unassignable 

inflexions, 


On  the  Word  Imitative,  as  applied  to  Music,        77 

inflexions,  (if  I  may  so  speak,)  that  characterize 
the  melody  of  speech, 

I  am,  indeed,  persuaded,  that  the  analogy 
between  the  melody  and  rhythm  of  Music,  and 
the  melody  and  rhythm  of  speech"",  is  a  principle 
of  greater  extent  and  importance  than  is  com- 
monly imagined.  Some  writers  have  extended  it 
so  far  as  to  resolve  into'  it  the  whole  power  of 
Music  over  the  affections.  Such  appears  to  have 
been  die  idea  of  Rousseau.  He  divides  all  Music 
into  natural  and  imitative ;  including,  under  the 
latter  denomination,  all  Music  that  goes  beyond 
the  mere  pleasure  of  the  sense,  and  raises  any 
kind  or  degree  of  emotion  :  an  effect  which  he 
conceives  to  be  wholly  owing  to  an  imitation, 
more  or  less  perceptible,  of  the  accents  and  in- 
flexions of  the  voice  in  animated  or  passionate 
speech'^.  Professor  Hutcheson  v/as  of  the  same 
opinion.  In  his  Inquiry  concerning  Beauty,  &c. 
he  says — "  There  is  also  another  charm  in  Music 
"  to  various  persons,  which  is  distinct  from  the 
"  harmony,  and  is  occasioned  by  its  raising* 
"  agreeable  passions.    The  human  voice  is  ob- 

"  viously 


^  »  uy^ai  7«f  SVi  KM  AOrnAEI  TI  MEA02,  to 

cuy)tiHJ^vcv  EK  T«v  's^^ocru^icov  twv  h  loi;  ovof/OJi.  [nristox, 
Harm.i.  p.  18.  Ed,  Meibom.']  To  this  he  opposes — 
MOTSIKON  MEA02. 


^. « 


Diet,  dc  Mus.'Art.  Musique — M£Lodie,&c. 


78  DISSERTATION    II. 

viously  varied  by  all  the  stronger  passions  ' ; 
now  when  our  tar  discerns  any  resembUmce 
between  the  air  of  ^  tune,  whether  suncr,  or 
played  upon  an  instrument,  either  in  its  time 
or  modulation,  or  any  other  circumstance,  to 
the  sou7id  of  the  human  voice  in  any  passion,  we 
"  shall  be  touched  by  it  in  a  very  sensible  manner, 
*'  and  have  melancholy,  joy,  gravity,  thought^ 
"  fulness,  excited  in  us  by  a  sort  of  sympathy  or 


«( 


a 


tc 


<c 


u 


(t 


n 


contagion. 


»> 


*  Thus  Theophrastus,  in  a  curious  passage  cited 
by  Plutarch  in  his  Sympotiacs^  p.  623,  Ed.  Xyl. — M«(7«>jf 
afX«5  Tf  £ij  £ivai,  ATIIHN,  HAONHN,  EN0OTIIA2MON- 

f«v>}v. "  There  are  t/ireg  principles  of  Music,  grief, 

*'  pleasure^  and  enthumasm ;  for  each  of  these  passions 
**  turns  the  voice  from  its  usual  course,  and  gives  it  in« 
"  flexions  different  from  those  of  ordinary  speech." — 
**  II  n'y  a  que  les  passions  qui  chantent,'^  says  Rousseau  ; 

**  Tentendement  ne  fait  que  parUrT This  passage 

of  Theophrastus  is  introduced  to  resolve  the  question^ 
^In  what  sense  love  is  said  to  teach  Music? — "  No 
"  wonder,"  says  the  resolvcr,  **  if  love,  having  in  itself 
"  all  these  three  principles  of  Music,  grief,  pleasure,  and 
•*  enthusiasm,  should  be  more  prone  to  vent  itself  in 
"  Music  and  Poetry  than  any  other  passion."— Aris- 
toxenus,  describing  the  difference  between  the  two 
motions  of  the  voice,  in  speaking  and  in  singing, — (the 
motion  by  slides,  and  that  by  intervals)  says — ^lo^rfp, 
h  T'u)  ^uz>^£yE{T6M  ^vyofjLiV  TO  Wavai  tijv  fwyw,  av  f^r)  AIA 
nA0O2  -aroTE  bI;  tgicivthv  xim^iv  avayxadQwixtv  bhiv,^^ 
p.  9.  Ed.  Meibomii. 


,■9 


On  the  Word  Imitative,  as  applied  to  Music,        79 

*^  contagion,''  [Sect.  6.  p.  83.]  This  ingenious 
and  amiable  writer  seems  to  have  adopted  this 
opinion  from  Plato,  to  whom,  indeed,  in  a 
similar  passage  in  his  System  of  Moral  Philo- 
sophy ^,  he  refers,  and  who,  in  the  third  book  of 
bis  Republic,  speaks  of  a  warlike  melody,  in- 
spiring courage,  as  **  imitating  the  sound >  and 
"  accents  of  the  courageous  man ;"  and,  of  a 
calm  and  sedate  m  lody,  as  imitating  the  sounds 
of  a;  man  of  such  a  character '. 

With  respect  to  Aristotle — whether  this  was 
his  opinion,  or  not,  cannot,  I  think,  be  deter- 
mined from  anything  he  has  erpre  'ly  ::ald  upon 
the  subject.  In  the  passage  above  produced  *, 
where  so  .much  is  said  of  the  resemblance  of 
melody  and  rhythm  to  manners,  or  tempers,  not 
a  word  is  said  from  which  it  can  be  inferred,  that 
he  meant  a  resemblance  to  the  tones  and  accents 
by  which  those  manners  are  expressed  in  speech. 
On  the  contrary,  the  expressions  there  made  use 
of  are  sue!  as  lead  us  naturally  to  conclude,  that 
he  meant  no  more  than  I  have  above  supposed 
him  to  mean ;  i,  e,  that  the  Music  produces  in  us, 

immediately, 

y  Vol.i.  p.  16. 

«  De  Rep,  lib.  m,  p,  399.  Ed.  Ser.  The  expressions 
are — h  [sc.  af/Aoviat— i.  e.  mehdy.^   h  rti  'ao'^iMucri  m^a^ei 

o'vT®-  M^BiH iff^eTToy^ui  av  MIMHIAITO  <^0OrrOT2 

TE  KAI  nPOSniAIAS. — And  again — (rwipfovwv,  av^^nwv, 
O0OrrOT2  MIMHSONTAI. 

*  P.  70. 


^  / 

^ 


\ 


80  DISSERTATION     II. 

immediately,  feelings  resembling  those  of  real 
passion,  &c. — For,  after  having  asserted,  that  there 
is  "  a  resemblance  in  rhythms  and  melodies  to 
"  the  irascible  and  the  gentle  disposition,"  he 
adds, — "  This  is  evident  from  the  manner  in 
**  which  we  find  ourselves  atFected  by  the  per- 
*'  Jormance  of  such  Music ;  for  we  perceive  a 
"  chcmge  produced  in  the  soul  while  we  listen  to 
"  it*."  And  again — *•  In  melody  itself  there  are 
"  imitations  of  human  manners :  this  is  manifest, 
"  from  the  melodies  or  modes,  which  have, 
**  evidently,  their  distinct  nature  and  character ; 
"  so  that,  when  we  hear  them,  we  feel  ourselves 
"  affected  by  each  of  them  in  a  different  man- 
ner, &c."  ^ — But  the  passage  furnishes,  I  think, 

a  more 


tc 


»  Anxov  h  iK  T«y  s^yar  METABAAAOMEN  TAP  THN 

IKTXHN  aK^oecfjLEvoi  TOiwrm.^  ^ 

**  Ev  h  roi<i  fAi>£(nv  cunoii  in  (MfjLUfjLaTa.  tuv  h^uv*  km  tkt* 

AAAnS  AIATI0E20AI,  km  /uij  rov  ainov  r^Trov  cx^iv 
mpog  Ixamv  avTuv, — k,  t.  oA. The  'A^ftowau,  i.  e.  melo- 
dies, (or,  more  properly  perhaps,  enharmonic  melodies) 
here  spoken  of,  must  not  be  confounded  with  what  arc 
visually  called  the  modes,  and  described  by  the  writers  on 
antient  music,  under  the  denomination  of  tovm,  i.e. 
pitches,  or  keys : — these  were  mere  transpositions  of  the 
same  scale,  or  system ;  the  A^imvuu  appear  to  have  been, 
as  the  name  implies,  different  melodies — scales,  in  which 
the  arrangement  of  intervals,  and  the  divisions  of  the 
tetrachord  (or  genera)  were  different.     Aristides  Quin-* 

tilianus  is  the  only  Greek  writer  who  has  given  any 

account 


On  the  IVord  Imitative^  as  applied  to  Music,       8 1 

a  more  decisive  proof  that  the  resemblance  here 
meant,  was  not  a  resenibaiice  to  speech.  Aristotle 
asserts*  here,  as  in  the  problem  of  which  I  shall 
presently  sj)eak,  that,  of  all  that  affects  the 
setiseSy  Music  alone  possesses  this  property  of 
resemblance  to  human  manners.  In  comparing 
it  with  painting,  he  observes,  that  this  art  can 
imitate,  immediately,  only  Jig u res  and  colours; 
which  are  not  resemblances  (ojuoiw/xara)  of  man- 
ners and  passions,  but  only  sigtis  and  indications 
of  tijem  ((rnfj^noi,)  in  the  human  body  :  whereas, . 
in  Music,  the  resemblance  to  manners  **  is  in  the 
melody  itself,'^     Now,   whatever    may    be  the^ 

meaning 

^ ^ 

account  of  these  a^fiovm.  (p.  2i.  Ed.  Meib.)  He  asserts, 
that  it  is  of  these,  not  of  the  Tovo<,*that  Plato  speaks  in 
the  famous  passage  of  his  Republic^  lib.  iVi.  where  he 
rejects  some  of  ihem,  and  retains  others.  This,  at  least, 
is  clear,  that  whatever  the  a^fxovtat  of  Plato  were, 
Aristotle  here  speaks  of  the  same.  See  his  Rep.  viii. 
p.  459. — Their  distinctive  names,  Lydian,  D  rian,  6cc. 
were  the  same  with  those  of  the  tgvoi^  that  of  iyniono" 
Lydian  excepted,  which,  I  think,  is  peculiar  to  the 
o^fAOviai.  This  coincidence  of  names  seems  to  have  been 
the  chief  cause  of  the  confusion  we  find  in  the  modern 
writers  on  this  subject.  The  distinction  has  been 
pointed  out  in  Dr.  Burney's  Hist,  of  Mus.  vol.  i, 
p.  32.— See  also  Rousseau's  Diet.  art.  Syntoko- 
LYDiEN,  &  Genre. 


«x  hi  Tama    o/j.oicoixara   ruv  h&uv,   a>^ct    SHMEIA 
ft;lX^oy,   ta  yivo^Bva   ^x'V*^*   **^  xf^^/^^a,   twv   h^uv    km 


VOL.  I. 


ravra 


(. 


8^ 


DISSERTATION    II. 


meaning  of  this  last  assertion — for  it  seems  not 
quite  philosophical  to  talk  of  such  a  resemblance 
as  being  in  the  sounds  themselves — whatever  may 
be  its  meaning,  it  cannot  well  be,  that  the  melody 
res3mbles  manners  as  expressed  hij  speech ;  be- 
cause this  would  destroy  the  distinction  between 
Music  and  Painting:  for  xvords  are  exactly  in 
the  same  case  with  colours  eind  Jigures ;  they  are 
not  resemblances  of  manners,  or  passions,  but 
indications  only.  We  must  then,  I  fear,  be  con- 
tented to  take  what  Aristotle  says  as  a  popular 
and  unphilosophical  way  of  expressing  a  mere 
resemblance  of  effect. 

In  one  of  his  Musical  Problems ,  indeed,  he 
advances  a  step  farther,  and  inquires  into  the 
cause  of  this  eftcct  of  Music  upon  the  mind. 
The  text  of  these  problems  is,  in  general,  very 
incorrect,  and  often  absolutely  unintelligible  ;  this 
problem,  however,  seems  not  beyond  the  reach  of 
secure  emendation,  though  it  may,  possibly,  be 
beyond  that  of  secure  explanation.  As  it  has  not, 
that  I  know  of,  been  noticed  by  any  writer  on  the 
subject,  and  may  be  regarded  at  least  as  a 
curiosity  not  uninteresting  to  the  musical  and 
philosophical  reader,  I  shall  venture  to  give  the 

entire 

Toura  sfiv  i'jri  tjj  ffu/xar^  h  toi;  rsjadso'iv, tv  h  TOI2 

MEAE2IN  ATTOIS  in  fjufAHfiara  tuv  yiOuv,—h.  t.  aX.— 
p.  455.  Ed.  Duval, 


On  the  Word  Imitative^  us  applied  to  Music.        83 

entire  problem,  as  I  think  it  should  be  read,  and 
to  subjoin  a  translation. 

AIA  TI  TO  ocTcag-ov  jjlgvov  rfi^  e^si  rcav 
ca(r67jTU)v\  (tcoh  yoco  eoiv  ri  ccvsv  Xoya  jiteX(^,  ofJLug 
l^et  rfi^')    uXX    i  to  ^occ[Jioc,  »d£  i  o<rfi%  io^  0 

0  i)/<?(p©^  'fjf^ocg  X.1VB1'  T01CX.VTV}  fivj  yoco  x,eii  toiq 
uXXoig  \)7ruoxBi  *  x>iVBi  yeco  jcoct  to  xp^[^^  "^V^  ^y'^  * 
dxXu  Trig  BTfOfjiBVYjg  rto  tousto)  i{;c(pw  uKT^otvofJiB^cx, 
KivrjTeug'  avrrj  66  6%e/  o/juoiottitix   \^TOig  yjGecnvy  iv 

TB   TOtg  IvdfjiOig   KOtl     Iv   TYI    TLOV  (p&OyyiCV     TOC^Bl    TCf}V 

c^Buv  7C0CI  (iotoBO)V.  {i^c  Bv  Tt]  f^i^^i'  oiXX  Ti  (rvfA(puiVicc 
mc  6%£<  ^6©^.)  Ev  Si  TOig  uXXoig  alTGyiroig  tuto 
»x  eg-iv,  oil  OB  zivTjO'Big  oajtou  'utloltct  %0Li]Bi(nv  *  oct  ob 
w^u^BigvjGag  G-yifiUG-iUBs-i.   iProbl.  xxwn.  0/ Sec.  ig.}   . 

Problem. 

"  Why,  of  all  that  affects  the   senses,    the 

"  AUDIBLE    only    has   any   exprehion  of  the 

"  manners;    (for  melody,  even  without  words, 

"  has   this   effect — )   but   colours,    smells,    and 

''  tastes, 

•  ■       — ■ —  ■ » 

^  The  text  here,  in  the  Ed.  of  Duval,  stands  thus: — 
Kivnaiv  ex^i  ixovovHXi  r^v  0  \J/o^^ — of  which  no  sense  can  be 
made.  The  emendation  appeared  to  me  obvious  and 
certain. 

V  *  1  insert — roig  yiGso-iv — as  plainly  required  by  the 
sense  of  the  passage,  and  fully  warranted  by  Aristotle's 
repeated  expressions  of  the  same  kind. — See  above, 
p  70.— I  found  no  other  corrections  necessary, 

G  2 


84 


DISSERTATION    II. 


tastes,  have  no  such  property? Is  it  be- 
cause the  awdible  alone  aftlcts  us  by  motion  ? — 
I  do  not  mean  that  niolion  by  which  as  mere 
sound  it  acts  upon  the  er/r ;  for  such  motion 
belongs  equally  to  the  objects  of  our  othe?' 
senses; — thus,  colour  acts  by  motion  upon  the 
**  organs  of  sight,  &c. — But  I  mean  another 
"  motion  which  we  perceive  subsequent  to  that ; 
'^  and  this  motion  bears  a  resemblance  to  "human 

« 

manners,   both    in    the   rhythm,    and   in   the 
arrangement  oi  sounds  acute  and  grave  : — not 
"  in  their  mixture 'y    for  harmony  has  no  ex- 
pression\     With    the   objects    of   our  other 


(( 


<( 


(( 


<t 


(( 


(C 


<( 


(( 


(( 


senses 


'  This    passage   is  remarkable.     It    is    exactly    the 
language  of  Rousseau — *'  11  n*y  a    aucun  rapport 
"  entre  des  accords,  &  les  objets  qu'on  veut  peindre,  ou 
'*  les  passions  qu'on  vcut  exprimer*'     [Diet,  de  Mus.  art. 
IMITATION  :    see  also  the  last  paragraph  of  art.  har- 
MONiE.]    Thus,  too,  Lord  Kaims : — "  Harmony,  pro- 
'^  perly  so  called,  though  delightful  when  in  perfection, 
"  hath  NO  RELATION  to  Sentiment,^*  [EL  ofCrit.  i.  128.] 
But  how  is  this  ?    The  same  intervals  are  the  materials  * 
both  of  melody  and  of  harmony.    These  inlcrvals  have, 
each  of  them,  their  peculiar  eft'ect  and  character,  and  it 
is  by  the  proper  choice  of  them  in  succession,  and  by  that 
only,  that  melody ,  considered  abstractedly  from  rhythm 
or  measure,  becomes  expressive,  or  has  any  "  relation  to 
sentiment.'*    Do  these  intervals,  then,  lose  at  once,  as  by- 
magic,     all    tlieir   variety    and   striking    difference    of 
character,  as  soon  as  they  are  heard  in  the  simultaneous 
4  combinations 


On  the  Word  Imitative,  as  applied  to  Music,        85 

**  senses  this  is  not  the  case.— — Now  these 
"  motions  are  analogous  to  the  motion  of  human 
**  actions ;  and  those  actions  are  the  ipdex  of  the 
**  manners^ 

In  this  problem,  the  philosopher  plainly  attri- 
butes the  expressive  power  of  musical  sounds 
to  their  succession — to  their  inotion  in  measured 

melody, 

-  -     '  -    -  , , . 

combinations  of  }\armony  ?  If  this  be  the  case,  the  vocal 
composer  is  at  once  relieved  from  all  care  of  adapting 
the  harmonies  of  his  accompaniment  to  the  expression 
of  the  sentiments  conveyed  in  the  words ;  and  it  must 
be  matter  of  perfect  indifference  whether,  for  example, 
he  uses  the  major  or  minor  third — the  perfect,  or  the 
false,  fifth — the  common    chord,  or  the  chord  of  the 

diminished  seventh,  6cc. With  respect  to  Rousseau,     1 

it  is  not  easy  to  see  how  this  assertion  of  his  can  be  recon- 
ciled with  what  he  has  elsewhere  said.  In  his  letter 
Sur  la  Afusique  Franfoisc,  he  expressly  allows  that  every 
interval,  consonant  or  dissonant,  *<  a  son  caractere  par- 
"  ticulier,  c*est  a  dire,  une  maniere  d*  affccter  Fame  qui 
**  lui  est  propre.*' — And  upon  this  depend  entirely  all 
the  admirable  obsei-vations  he  has  there  made,  concern- 
ing the  ill  effects  which  a  crowded  harmony,  and  the  \ 
♦'  remplissage'"  of  chords,  have  upon  m.usical  expres-  \ 
sion. — In  another  article  [accord]  of  his  dictionary, 
this  inconsistence  is  still  more  striking.  One  would  not 
diink  it  possible  for  the  same  writer,  who  in  one  place  . 
talks  of  intervals,  "  propres,  par  leur  dure'te,  a  exprimcr 
"  Pemportementy  la  colere,  et  LEs  passions  aigues" — 
and,  of — "  une  harmonie plaintive  qiii  attendrit  le 
"  cceur" to  asseit  in   anodier  part    of  the  same 


03 


work, 


86  DISSERTATION    II. 

melody.  He  also  distinguishes  the  rhiithmicaly 
from  the  melodious^  succession  ;  for  he  says 
expressly,  that  this  motion  is  '*  both  in  the 
'*  rhythm  (or  measure^)  and  in  the  order  or 
"  arrangement  of  sounds  acute  and  graved — But 
whence  the  effect  of  these  motions  ?  He  answers, 
from  their  analogy  to  the   motions    of  human 

actions, 


work,  that  "  il  n'y  a  AUG  UN  rapport  entre  des 
'*  accords  J  et  LES   passions   qu'on  veut  exprimer,^' 

Had  these  writers  contented  themselves  with  saying, 
that  harmony  has  much  less  relation  to  sentiment  than 
melody,  they  would  not  have  gone  beyond  the  truth. 
And  the  reason  of  this  ditference  in  the  effect  of  the 
same  intervals,  in  melody,  and  in  harmony,  seems,  plainly, 
this — that  in  melody,  these  intervals  being  formed  by 
successive  sounds,  have,  of  course,  a  much  closer,  and 
more  obvious  relation  to  the  tones  and  inflexions  by  which 
sentiments  are  expressed  m  speech,  than  they  can  have  in 
harmony,  wliqre  they  are  formed  by  sounds  heard  together. 

As  to  the  assertion  of  Aristotle,  it  seems  only  to 
furnish  an  additional  proof  that  the  antienrs  did  not 
practise  anything  like  our  counterpoint,  or  continued 
harmony  in  differ tnt  parts.  Where  the  utmost  use  of 
harmony  seems  to  have  been  confined  to  unisons, 
octaves,  fourths,  and  fifths — where  at  least  no  discords, 
(the  most  expressive  materials  of  modern  harmony,) 
were  allowed — we  cannot  wonder  that  the  ^'mixture** 
of  sounds  in  consonance  should  be  thoughr  to  have  no 
relation  to  sentiment,  and  that  all  the  power  of  Music 
over  the  passions,  should  be  confined  to  melodious  and 
rhythmical  succession. 


•c. 


X 


On  the  Word  Imitative,  as  applied  to  Music,       ^7 

actions^,  by  which  the  manners  and  tempers  of  men 
are  expressed  in  common  life.  With  respect  to 
the  analogy  of  rhythmic  movement  to  the  various 
motions  of  men  in  action,  this,  indeed,  is  sutti- 
cicntly  obvious.  But  Aristotle  goes  farther,  and 
supposes  that  there  is  also  such  analogy  in  the 
motion  of  melody  considered  merely  as  a  suc- 
cession of  different  tones,  without  any  regard  to 

time  ; — iv  TE  twv   (p^oyyu)y   roc^eif    ruv  OHEHN   x«* 

BAPEXIN.  He  plainly  asserts,  that  this  succession 
of  tones,  also,  is  analogous  to  the  motion  of  human 
actions.  Now  it  seems  impossible  to  assign  any 
human  action  to  whicli  a  succession  of  sounds  and 
intei^alsy  merely  as  such,  has,  or  can  have,  any 
relation  or  similitude,  except  the  action  (if  the 
expression  is  allowable,)  of  speaking,  which  is 
such  a  succession.  TyTthis  be  Aristotle  s  meaning — 
and  I  confess  myself  unable  to  discover  any  other 
— I  do  not  see  how  we  can  avoid  concluding;,  that 


he  agreed  so  far  with  Plato,  as  to  attribute  part, 
at  least,  of  the  effect  of  Music  upon  the  afi'ections 
to  the  analogy  between  melody  and  speech.         -^ 

This 

\ 

«  The  original  is  short,  and  rather  obscure.  It  says, 
literally,  "  these  motions  are  practical  motions  :**  'si^ktikm 
titriv.  But  that  I  have  given  Aristotle's  true  meaning  in 
Biy  translation,  is  evident  from  a  clearer  expression  in 
Prob.  xxix.  which  is  a  shorter  solution  of  the  same 
question.  His  expression  there  is — xivn^sig  ua-iv  [sc.  01 
foOfxoi  KM  Tx  fji^xri]  nSnEP  KAI  Al  UPAsEll.  — 
**  Rhythm  and  melody  are  motions,  as  actisns  alsoare^* 

G  4  » 


88  DISSERTATION    II. 

This  analogy  is,  indeed,  a  curious  subject,  and 
deserves,  perhaps,  a  more  thorough  examination 
and  developii.ent  than  it  has  yet  received  \  liut 
I  shill  not  trust  myself  farther  with  a  speculation 
so  likely  to  d  aw  me  wide  froiiji  the  proper 
business  of  this  dissertation,  than  just  to  observe, 
that  the  w  riters  above-mentioned,  who  resolve  all 
the  pathetic  expression  of  Music  into  this  prin- 
ciple, though  they  assert  more  than  it  seems 
possible  to  prove,  are  yet  much  7iearer  to  the 
truth  than  those,  wlio  altogether  overlook,  or 
reject,  that  principle*;  a  principle,  of  which,  in- 
stances 


^  Much  light  has  been  flung  upon  this  subject,  as  far 
as  relates  to  speech,  by  Mr.  Steele,  in  his  curious  and  in- 
genious essay  On  the  Melody  and  Measure  of  Speech,  But 
the  olject  of  his  enquiry  was  Speech ^  not  Music.  His 
purpose  In  tracing  the  resemblance  between  them,  was 
only  to  shew  that  speech  is  capable  of  notation -,  not  to 
examine  how  far  the  eflTect  of  Music  on  the  passions 
depends  on  that  resemblance. — His  notation  is  extremely 
ingenious;  but  with  respect  to  his  project  of  accom- 
panying the  declamation  of  Tragedy  by  a  drone  bass, 
I  must  confe^s  that,  for  my  own  part,  I  cinnot  reflect 
without  some  comfort  upon  the  improbability  that  it  will 
ever  be  attempted. 

*  After  all  wing  that  '*  diflFv^rent  passions  and  scnti- 
'•  ments  do  indeed  give  different  tones  and  accents  to  the 
*'  human  voice,"  Dr.  Beattie  asks — *'  but  Can  the  tones 
*'  of  the  most  pathetic  melody  be  said  to  bear  a  rcsem- 
**  blance  to  the  voice  of  a  man  or  woman  speaking  from 

"  the 


On  the  Word  Imitative^  as  applied  to  Music,        89 

Stances  so  frequent  and  so  palpable  are  to  be 
traced  in  the  works  of  the  best  masters  of  vocal 
composition — in  those  of  Purge  ll,  for  example, 
of  Handel,  and  above  all,  of  Pergolesi — 
that  I  have  often  wondered  it  should  have  been 

neglected 


•<  the  impulse  of  passion?'*  I  can  only  ansv/er,  that  to 
my  car,  such  a  resemblance,  in  the  '*  most  pathetic  melody*^ 
is,  often,  cren  striking  :  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  in  many 
passages  we  are  affected  from  a  inore  delicate  and  latent 
degree  of  that  resemblance,  suflficient  to  be/^//,  in  id 
cflrect,  though  not  to  be  perceived. — Dr.  Beattie  also  asks 

i'  if  there  arc  not  melancholy  airs  in  the  sharp  key, 

"  and  chearful  ones  in  the /^f /*  "—Undoubtedly,  the 
peculiar  and  opposite  charjcters  of  these  keys,  may  be 
variously  modified  and  tempered  by  the  movement,  the 
accent,  and  the  manner  of  performance,  in  general :  but 
they  can  never  be  destroyed  \    much   less  can  they  be 
-changed,  as  Dr.  Beattie  supposes,  to  their  very  opposites, 
A  chearful  air  in  Txjiat  key,  I  confess,  I  never  heard.  If 
Dr.  Beattie  thinks  the  jig  in  the  fifth  solo  of  CorelH 
chearful,  because  the  movement  is  allegro,  I  would  beg  of 
him  to  try  an  experiment :  let  him  only  play  the  first 
bar  of  that  jig,  (with  the  bass,)  upon  a  harpsichord,  &:c. 
in  G  major :  and  when  he  has  attended  to  the  eflTect  of 
that,   let   him    return   to  the    minor  key,  and  hear  the 
difference. — As  to  "  melancholy  airs  in  a  sharp  key,"  the 
word  melancholy  is,  I  think,  used  with  considerable  latitude, 
and  comprehends  diflferent  shades.  In  the  lightest  of  these 
shades,  it  may  perhaps  be  applied  to  some  airs  in  a  major 
kcv :  that  key  may,  by  slowness  -of  movement,  softness 
and  smoothness  of  tone,  &c.  become  solemn,  tender, 

touching, 


90  DISSERTATION    11. 

neglected  by  so  exact  a  writer  as  Mr.  Harris, 
though  it  lay  directly  in  his  way,  and,  in  one 
•  place,  he  actually  touched  it  as  he  passed \  He 
seems,  here,  to  have  deserted  tliose  antients  whom, 
in  general,  he  most  delighted  to  follow. 

But 


touching,  &c.— but  I  cannot  say  I  recollect  any  air  in 
that  key  which  makes  an  impression  that  can  properly  be 
called  melancholy.  But  we  must  be  careful  in  this  matter 
to  allow  for  the  magic  of  association,  which  no  one  better 
-   understands,  or  has  described  with  more  feeling  and  fancy, 

than    Dr.  Beattie  himself.  [See  p.  173,  &c.] With 

respect  to  '*  a  transition  from  the  one  key  to  the  other" 
[from  major  to  minor,  &c.]  '*  in  the  same  air,  without  any 
"  sensible  change  in  the  expression,"  I  must  also  confess 

that  it  is,  to  me,  totally  unknown. — One  word  more  : 

Dr.  Beaitie  is  "  at  a   loss  to  conceive   how  it  should 
'*  happen,  that  a  musician  overwhelmed  with  sorrow,  for 
'*  example,  should  put  together  a  series  of  notes,  whose 
"  expression  is  contrary  to  that  of  another  series  which 
"  he  had  put  together  when  elevated  with  joy."  [p.  180.] 
— But  is  not  Dr.  Beattie  equally  at  a  loss  to  conceive 
how  it  should  happen  that  any  man  overwhelmed  with 
sorrow,  should  put  together,  in  speaking,  (as  he  certainly 
does)  a  series  of  tones,  whose  expression  is  contrary  to 
that   of  another  series  which  he  had  put  together  when 
elevated  Wiihjoy? — T\\t  two  facts  are  equally  certain, 
and,  even  at  the  first  view,  so  nearly  allied,  that  whoever 
can  account  for  the  one,  need  not,  I  am  persuaded,  be 
a:  the  trouble  of  trying  to  account  separately  for  the 
other. 


^  Ch.  ii*  §  2. — ^particularly  note  \ 


\ 


n 


a 


On  the  fVord  Imitative,  as  applied  to  Music,       9^1 

But  to  return  to  Aristotle,  and  his  treatise  on 
Poetry  : — the  reader  will  observe  that  he  does 
not  there  assert  in  general  terms,  that  "  Music 

is  an  Imitative  Art,'''  but  only,  that  the  Music 

of  the  Jlute  and  the  lyre''  is  imitative;  and 
even  that,  not  always,  but  "j^r  the  most  partK'' 
I  just  mention  this,  because  I  have  observed 
in  many  of  the  commentators,  as  well  as  in 
other  writers,  a  disposition  to  extend  and  gener 
ralize  his  assertions,  bv  which  thev  have  some- 
times  involved  the  subject  and  themselves  in 
unnecessary  difficulties. 

With  respect  to  modern  writers,  at  least,  there 
seems  to  be  a  manifest  impropriety  in  denomi- 
nating Music  an  Imitative  Art,  while  they  con- 
fine the  application  of  the  term  Imitative  to  what 
they  confess  to  be  the  slightest  and  least  important 
of  all  its  powers.  In  this  view,  consistence  and 
propriety  are,  certainly,  on  the  side  of  Dr.  Beattie, 
Mhen  he  would  "  strike  Music  off  the  list  of 
Imitative  Arts'^y  But  perhaps  even  a  farther 
reform  may  justly  be  considered  as  wanting,  in 
our  language  upon  this  subject.  With  what- 
ever propriety,  and  however  naturally  and  ob- 
viously, the  arts  both  of  Alusic,  and  of  Poetuy, 
may  be,  separately,  and  occasionally,  regarded 
and  spoken  of  as  imitative,  yet,  when  we  arrange 

and 


y 


■  Page  129. 


9*  DISSERTATION    II. 

and    class   the   arts,    it   seems   desirable  that  a 
clearer  language  were  adopted.  The  notion,  that 
Painting,   Poetry   and  Music"  are   all  Arts  of 
Imitation,  certainly  tends  to  produce,  and    has 
produced,    much   confusion.     That  they   all,   in 
some  sense  of  the  word,  or  other,  imitate,  cannot 
be  denied;    but  the  senses   of  tlie  word   when 
applied   t^o    Poetry,  or   Music,   are  so  different 
both  from  each  other,  and  from  that  in  which  it 
is  applied  to  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  the  arts 
of  design   in   general— the   only   arts   that  are 
obviously  and   essentially   imitative— that    when 

we 


■  What   shall  we  say   to  those  who   add  Archi- 
tecture to  the  list  of  Imitative  Arts  P~Ont  would 
not  expect  to  find  so  absurd  a  notion  adopted  by  so  clear 
and  philosophical  a  writer  as  M.  d'Alembert.     Yet   in 
his  Dlscours  PreL   de  VEnclyclop,   he   not    only    makes 
Architecture  an  imitative  art,  but  even   classes  it  with 
painting  and  sculpture.     He  allows,  indeed,  that  the  imi- 
tation ^*  de  la  belle  nature y  y  est    moins  frappante  &  plus 
"  resserree  que  dans  les  deux  autres  arts  :  " — but  how  is 
it  any  imitation  at  all? — only  because  it  imitates  ♦'par 
"  Tassemblage   et  I'union    des  diiFerens   corps    qu*ellc 
"  emploie" — what? — ^^  T arrangement   symmetrique  que 
"  la  nature  observe  plus  ou  moins    sensiblement  daus 
"  chaque  individu,  &c."   {Mel.  de  lit.  i.  63.]  I  can  only 
say,  that,  upon  this  principle,  the  joiner,  the  smith,  and 
the  mechanic  of  almost  every  kind,  have' a  fair  claim  to 
be  elevated  to  the  rank  of  Imitative  Artists  :  for  if  a 
regular  building  be  an  imitation  of  "  la  belle  nature*'  50  is 
a  chair,  a  table,  or  a  pair  of  fire-tonp^s. 


On  the  Word  Imitative,  as  applied  to  Music,        93 

we  include  them  all,  without  distinction,  under 
the  same  general  denomination  of  Imitative 
Arts,  we  seem  to  defeat  the  only  useful  purpose 
of  all  classing  and  arrangement ;  and,  instead 
of  producing  order  and  method  in  our  ideas, 
produce  only  emban-assment  and  confusion. 
[See  Diss.  I.  p.  3,4.] 


\ 


( 


ARISTOTLE 


ON 


P  O   E  T  H  Y. 


f 


f    97    3 


CONTENTS. 


p.  101 

-   ib. 


PART    I. 

GENERAL  AND  COMPARATIVE  VIEW  OF 
POETRY  AND  ITS  PRINCIPAL  SPECIES. 

KCT.    Inteoductiow    -     -     -     . 

I.  Poetry  a  species  of  Imitation     « 

II.  Different  7wetf/2^  of  Imitation       -     -  102 

III.  Different  o^ec/*  of  Imitation      -     -  104 

IV.  Different  7?z^772wer  of  Imitation    -     -  106 
V.    Origin  of  Poetry   ------107 

VI.    Its  division  into  serious  and  ludicrous,  1 09 

VII.    Progress  of  Tragedy    -    -     -    -      m 

VIII.  Object  and  progress  of  Comedy     -  113 

IX.    Epic  and  Tragic  species  compared  -  114 


11 


PART    IL 

OF    TRAGEDY. 


/ 


!•     Definition  of  Tragedy      -     -     -     -116 

II.  Deduction  of  its  constituent  parts   -   ib. 

III.  Comparative  importance  of  those  parts,  1 1 8 

IV.  Of  the  Fable  [to  Sect.  15.]— it  should 

be  a  perfect  whole,   and  of  a  certain 

magnitude     - 122 

VOL.1.      .  H  V.  Uniti/ 


SECT. 

V. 
VI. 


98  CONTENTS, 

Unity  of  the  Fable     -     -     -     -  p.  1 24 
Different  provinces  of  the  Poet  and  the 
Historian     --.-.----127 

VII.  Episodic  ¥ah\es  ------129 

VIII.  Fables,  simple^  or  complicated  -     -  130 

IX.  Parts   of   the   Fable,     1.   Revolutiom. 

2.  Discoveries.     3.  Disasters     -   131 

X.  Parts  into  wliich Tragedy  is  divided  -  1 33 
XL     What  catastrophe,  and  what  character ^ 

best  adapted  to  the  purpose  of  Tra- 
gedy      135 

XII.    Catastrophe  should  be  single^  and  that 
unhappy     -.-----136 

XIII.  Terror  and  Pity  to  be  excited  by  the  action, 

not  by  the  decoration,  or  spectacle  13S 

XIV.  Of  disastrous  incidents  and  the  proper 

management  of  them  -  -    -     -     139 

XV.  Of  the  Manners       -    -     -    .     143 

XVI.  Of  the  different  kmds  of  Z)wc(?rerj/,  147 

XVII.  Practical    directions    for    the    Tragic 

Poet    --------     151 

XVIII.  ConipUcation  and  Developme?it  vi  the 

plot 154 

XIX.    Different  kinds  of  Tragedy    -     -     155 
XX.    Too  great  extentofplan  to  be  avoided  157 

XXL   Oi  the  Chorus 158 

XXIL  Of  the  Sentiments  -     -     -     -     i^jj 

XXIIL  Of  the  Diction,  [to  the  end  of  this 
part]    --------160 

XXIV.  Analysis 


CONTENTS. 


^ECT. 


99 


XXIV.  Analysis  of  Diction,  or   Language,   in 

gefieral p.  161 

XXV.  Different  kinds  of  tt;ortfe    -     -     -     165 
XX VL  Of  Poetic  Diction      -    -    .    -     170 


PART    IIL, 

OF    THE  EPIC   POEM. 

1.     In  what  Epic  and  Tragic  Poetry  agree     176 
IL    In  what  they  differ    -----     18a 

III.  Epic  Narration  should  be  dramatic  and 

imitative       *------     182 

IV.  Epic  admits  the  wonderful  more  easily,  and 

in  a  greater  degree,  than  Tragedy  -     ib. 
V.    Fiction,  how  made  to  pass  as  truth  -     1 83 
VL   Of  the  improbable  and  absurd  -     -     ]  84 


P  A  R  T    IV. 

OF  CRITICAL  OBJECTIONS,  AND  THE 
PRINCIPLES  ON  WHICH  THEY  ARE 
TO    BE   ANSWERED. 

L     Principles  on  which  Poetry  is  to  be  de- 
fended   --- 188 

IL    Application  of  the  last  principle     -     190 

III.     .     of  the^r^^  *     -     -     -     191 

IV.  Censure  of  immoral  speech,  or  action — 

how  to  be  examined    -     -     -     -     192 

H  2  V.  Applicati(?i4 


lOO  CONTENTS. 

SECT. 

V.    Application  of  the  second  principle  p.  1 93 
VI.  Censure  of  impossibilitif — farther    consi- 
dered  ------     200 

VII.     Inconsistence    -     -     -     -     201 

VIII.   Improbability   and    vitious  cha- 
racter      ib. 


PART   V. 

OF   THE    SUPERIORITY  OF   TRAGIC   TO 

EPIC   POETRY. 


L     Objection  to  Tragedy     - 

II.  That  objection  answered 

III.  Advantages  of  Tragedy  - 

IV.  Preference  of  Tragedy    - 


-  -  203 

-  -  204 

-  -  205 

-  -  207 


CoNCLUSrON^ 


ib. 


[    loi    ] 


PART    I. 

GENERAL  AND  COMPARATIVE  VIEW  OF 
POETRY  AND  ITS  PRINCIPAL  SPECIES. 


INTRODUCTION. 

TiTY  design  is  to  treat  of  Poetry  in  general,  Disiair, 
-*^^-*^  and  of  its  several  species — to  inquire,  what 
is  the  proper  effect  of  each — what  construction 
of  ^.foble,  or  plan,  is  essential  to  a  good  Poem — 
of  what,  and  how  mani/,  parts,  each  species 
consists ;  with  whatever  else  belongs  to  the  same 
subject :  which  I  shall  consider  in  the  order  that 
most  naturally  presents  itself. 

I. 

Epic  Poetry,  Tragedy,  Comedy,  Dithyrambics,  Poehya 
as  also,  for  the  most  part,  the  Music  of  the  flute,  imTrxioN. 
and  of  the  lyre — all  these  are,  in  the  most  general 
view  of  them,  imitations';  differing,  however, 
from  each  other  in  tk?^e€  respects,  according  to 
the  different  means,  the  different  objects,  or  the 
different  manner,  of  their  imitation. 

'  The  application  of  this  term  to  Poetry,  in  general, 
is  considered  in  Dissertation  I. — to  Mmic,  in  Diss.  II.— 
to  Dithyrambic  Poetry,  in  note  i, 

«3 


Different 

MEANS 

of 

Imitation. 


1* 


ii« 


m 


102  General  and  comfmrative  View  of       [fart  I, 

ir. 

For,  as  men,  some  through  art,  and  soma 
through  habit,  imitate  various  objects,  by  meand 
oi colour  and Jigure,  and  others,  again,  by  voice*; 
so,  with  respect  to  the  arts  above-mentioned, 
rhythm,  words,  and  mebdy,  are  the  different  meuAs 
by  which,  either  single,  or  variously  combined, 
they  all  produce  their  imitation. 

For  example :  in  the  imitations  of  the  flute,  and 
the  lyre,  and  of  any  other  instruments  capable  of 
producing  a  similar  effect — as  the  syrinjc,  or 
pipe — melody  and  rhythm  only  are  employed. 
In  those  of  Dance,  rhythm  alone,  without  melody; 
for  there  are  dancers  who,  by  rhythm  applied  to 
gesture ',  express  manners,  passions,  and  actions. 

The  Epopoeia  imitates  by  xvords  alone,  or  by 
verse^'y  and  that  verse  may  either  be  composed 
of  various  metres,  or  confined,  according  to  the 

practice 

*  Vocal  mimicry ;  imitation  by  tone  of  voice  merely  : 
See  Diss. I.  towards  the  end,  NoteK — And  nqte  2, 
on  this  passage. 

'  The  expression  seems  inaccurate ;  for  it  is  by^their 
gestures  that  they  express,  or  imitate ;— not  by  the  rhythm^ 
or  measured  motion,  of  those  gestures. — See  note  4, 
where  I  have  endeavoured  to  account  for  Aristotle's 
expressing  himself  thus. 

♦  i.  e.  by  words  only,  without  melody  and  rhythm  ;  or, 
at  most,  with  no  other  rhythm  than  is  implied  in  the  idea 
of  metre  '.--^-■without  rhythm  in  its  musical  acceptation  of 
time.    Sec  note  5. 


FART  r.]        Poetry  and  its  principal  Species,  103 

practice  hitherto  established,  to  a  single  species. 
For  we  should,  otherwise,  have  no  general  name 
which  would  comprehend  the  Mimes  of  Sophron 
and  Xenarchus,  and  the  Socratic  dialogues; 
or  Poems  in  Iambic,  Elegiac,  or  other  metres,  in 
which  the  Epic  species  of  imitation  may  be  con- 
veyed. Custom,  indeed,  connecting  the  poetry  or 
-making  with  the  jjietre,  has  denominated  some 
Elegiac  Poets,  i.  e.  makers  *  of  elegiac  verse ; 
others,  Epic  Poets ;  i.  e.  makers  of  hexameter 
H)erse  ;  thus  distinguishing  Poets,  not  according  to 
the  nature  of  their  imitatiort,  but  according  to 
that  of  their  metre  only.  For  even  they,  who 
compose  treatises  of  medicine,  or  natural  phi- 
losophy, in  verse,  are  denominated  Poets;  yet 
Homer  and  Empedocles  have  nothing  in  com- 
jnon,  except  their  metre  y  the  former,  therefore, 

justly 
, ^^ — . . 

'  It  may  be  necessary  to  observe,  tliat  the  Greek 
word,  (-sowrnjj — poietes)  whence /)<?r/^,  and />^fr,  is,  literally, 
maker  \  and  maker,  it  is  well  known,  was  once  the 
current  term  for  poet  in  our  language ;  and  to  write  verses, 
was,  to  make.  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  speaking  of  the  Greek 
wor(J,  says—**  wherein,  I  know  not  whether  by  luck 
**  or  wisdom,  we  Englishmen  have  met  with  the  Greeks^ 
**  in  calling  him  Maker"    Defense  of  Poesy, 

So  Spenser ; 

The  god  of  shepherds,  TityruSy  is  dead, 
\Vho  taught  me,  homely, as  1  can,  to  make.    . 

Shep.Cal,]\JSt. 
H4 


1 04>  General  and  cdmparative  View  ef       [parti. 

justly  merits  the  name  of  Poet ;  while  the  other 
should  rather  be  called  a  Physiologist  than  a 
Poet. 

So,  also,  though  any  one  should  chuse  to  convey 
his  imitation  in  every  kind  of  metre,  promiscuously, 
as  CH.EREMON  has  done  in  his  Centaur,  which 
is  a  medley  of  all  sorts  of  verse,  it  would  not  im- 
mediately follow,  that,  on  that  account  merely,  he 
was  entitled  to  the  name  of  Poet.— But  of  this, 
enough. — 

There  are,  again,  other  species  of  Poetry  which 
make  use  of  all  the  means  of  imitation,  rhythm^ 
mdody,  and  ^erse.  Such  are,  the  Dithyrambic, 
that  of  Nomes,  Tragedy,  and  Comedy :  with  this 
difference,  however,  that  in  some  of  these  ^  they 
are  employed  all  together,  in  others,  separately. 
And  such  are  the  differences  of  these  arts  with 
respect  to  the  means  by  which  they  imitate. 

III. 

But,  as  the  objects  of  imitation  are  the  actions 


Different 

OBJECTS 

imiuLn    ^^  ^^^'  ^^  ^^^^^  "^^"  "^"^^  ^^  necessity  be  either 


good 


*  In  Dithyrambic,  or  Bacchic  hymns,  and  in  the 
l^omes,  which  were  also  a  species  of  hymns,  to  Apollo, 
and  other  deities,  all  the  means  of  imitation  were  em- 
ployed together,  and  throughout :  inTragedy  and  Comedy, 
separately ;  some  of  them  in  one  part  of  the  drama,  and 
some  in  another.  (See  Panll.  5fr/.  i.)  fn  the  choral 
part,  however,  at  least,  if  no  where  else,  all,  melody, 
rhythm  and  words,  must  probably  have  been  used  at  tnce^ 
as  in  the  hymns. 


PARTI.]       Poetry  and  its  principal  Species,  105 

good  or  bad,  (for  on  this  does  c//flr^c/er  principally 
depend ;  the  manners  being,  in  all  men,  most 
strongly  marked  by  virtue  and  vice,)  it  follows, 
that  we  can  only  represent  men,  either  as  better 
tlian  they  actually  are,  or  worse,  or  exactly  as  they 
are  :  just  as,  in  Painting,  the  pictures  of  Polyg- 
9iotus  were  above  the  common  level  of  nature; 
those  of  Pauson,  below  it;  those  of  Dio?7ysius, 
faithful  likenesses. 

Now  it  is  evident  that  each  of  the  imitations 
above-mentioned  will  admit  of  these  differences, 
and  become  a  different  kind  of  imitation,  as  it 
imitates  objects  that  differ  ia  this  respect.  This 
may  be  the  case  with  Dancing ;  with  the  Music 
of  the  flute,  and  of  the  lyre ;  and,  also,  with  the 
Poetry  which  employs  words,  or  verse  only,  witli- 
out  melody,  or  rhythm :  thus,  Homer  has  drawn 
men  superior  to  what  they  are  7;  Ckophon,  as 
they  are ;  Hegemon  the  Thasian,  the  inventor  of 

parodies^ 


^  Superior,  that  is,  in  courage,  strength,  wisdom, 
prudence,  &c. — in  any  laudable,  useful,  or  admirable 
quality,  whether  such  as  we  denominate  moral,  or  not. 
If  superiority  of  moral  character  only  were  meant,  the 
assertion  would  be  false. — It  is  necessary  to  remember 
here,  the  wide  sense  in  which  the  antients  used  the  terms 
virtue,  vice— good,  hod,  &c.  See  note  19.— The  diffe- 
rence between  moral,  and  poetical,  perfection  of  character, 
is  well  explained  by  Dr.  Beattie,  Essay  on  Poetry,  6cc. 
Part  I.  ch.  4. — The  heroes  of  Homer,  as  he  well  observes, 
are  ^' finer  animals''  than  we  are;  (p.  69.)  not  better  men. 


I06  General  and  comparative  View  of      [parti, 

parodies,  and  Nicockares,  the  author  of  the 
Deliady  worse  than  they  are. 

So,  again,  with  respect  to  Dithyrambics,  and 
Nomes:  in  these,  too,  the  imitation  may  be  as 
diflferent  as  that  of  the  Persians,  by  TimotheuSy 
and  the  Cyclops,  by  Philoxenus. 

Tragedy,  also,  and  Comedy,  are  distinguished 
in  the  same  manner ;  the  aim  of  Comedy  being, 
to  exhibit  men  worse  than  we  find  them,  that  of 
Tragedy,  better. 


IV. 

Different  There  remains  the  third  difference — that  of  the 
of  manner  in  Avhich  each  of  these  objects  may  be 
imitated.  For  the  Poet,  imitating  the  same  object^ 
and  by  the  same  means,  may  do  it  either  in 
NARRATION — and  that,  again,  either  personatincf 
other  characters,  as  Homer  does,  or,  in  his  own 
person  throughout,  without  change  : — or,  he  may 
imitate  by  representing  all  his  characters  as  real, 
and  employed  in  the  very  action  itself. 

These,  then,  are  the  three  differences  by  which, 
as  I  said  in  the'  beginning,  all  imitation  is  dis- 
tinguished ;  those  of  the  imam,  the  object,  and 
the  manner  :  so  that  Sophocles  is,  in  one  respect, 
an  imitator  of  the  same  kind  with  Homer,  as 
elevated  characters  arc  the  objects  of  both;  iq 
another  respect, of  tl  lO  same  kind  with  Aristophanes^ 
as  both  imitate  in  the  way  of  action ;  whence, 
according  to  some,  the  application  of  the  term 

Dvavia 


>  art  I.]       Poetry  and  its  principal  Species."  107 

Drama  [i.  e.  action]  to  3uch  Poems.     Upon  this    Drama. 
it  is  that  the  Dorians  ground  their  claim  to  the  ?olTrtg 
invenxion  both  of  Tragedy  and  Comedy.     For  'l';.!:r 
Comedy  is  claimed  by  the  Alegarians^  both  by  tieni^i!!* 
those  of  Greece,  who  contend  tliat  it  took  its 
rise  in  their  popular  government ;  and  by  those 
of  Sicily,   among  whom   the   poet  Epicharmus 
flourished  long  before  Chionides  and  Magnes : 
and  Tragedy,   also,  is  claimed  by  some  of  the 
Dorians  of  Peloponnesus.— In  support  of  these 
claims  they  argue  from  the  words  themselves. 
They  allege,  that  the  Doric  word  for  a  village  is 
COME,  the  Attic,  demos  ;   and   that  Comedians 
were  so  called,  not  from  Comazein— /o  revel— 
but  from  their  strolling  about  the  Comai,  or 
milages^  before  they  were  tolerated  in  the  city. 
They  say,  farther,  tliat,  to  do,  or  act,  they  express 
by  the  word  dhan  ;  the  Athenians  by  prattein. 

And  thus   much  as  to  the  differences  of  imi- 
tation--how  many,  and  what,  they  are. 


V. 

Poetry,  in  general,  seems  to  have  derived  its  0n,orM 
origin  from  ivfo  causes,  each  of  them  natural.        pj^[, 

1.  To  imitate  is  instinctive  in  man  from  his 
infancy.  By  this  he  is  distinguished  from  other 
animals,  that  he  is,  of  all,  the  most  imitative,  and 

through 


•  Who  were  all  of  Doric  oiWxn, 

*  A  (krivation  very  honourable  to  itinerant  players. 


^ 


lo8  General  and  cdmparative  View  of       [f  Art  !• 

through  this  instinct  receives  his  earliest  edu- 
cation*.    All   men,  likewise,   naturally  receive 
pleasure  from  imitation.     This  is  evident  from 
what  we  experience  in  viewing  the  works  of  imi- 
tative art ;  for  in  them,  we  contemplate  with  plea- 
sure, and  with  the  ^(?re  pleasure,  the  more  exactly 
they  are  imitated,  such  objects  as,  if  real,  we 
could  not  see  without  pain ;  as,  the  figures  of 
the  meanest  and  most  disgusting  animals,  dead 
bodies,  and  the  like.     And  the  reason  of  this  is, 
that  to  learrij  is  a  natural  pleasure,  not  confined 
to  philosophers,  but  common  to  all  men ;  with 
this  difference  only,  that  tlie  multitude  partake  of 
it  in  a  more  transient  and  compendious  manner. 
Hence  the  pleasure  they  receive  from  a  picture: 
in  viewing  it  they  learn\  they  infer,  they  discover, 
what  every  object  is :  that  this,  for  instance,  is 
such  a  particular  man,  &c.     For  if  we  suppose 
the  object  represented  to  be  something  which  the 
spectator  had  never  seen,  his  pleasure,  in  that 
case,  will  not  arise  from  the  imitation,  but  from 
the  workmanship,   the   colours,   or  some  such 
cause. 

Imitation,  then,  being  thus  natural  to  us,  and, 
7ndly,  MELODY  and  rhythm!  being  also  natural, 

(for 

*  See  Dr.  Beattie's  Essay  on  Poetry,  &c.  Part  l,ch,  6. 

This  is  explained  in  note  22. 
t  "  Rhythm  differs  from  metre,  in  as  mucli  as 
'*  RHYTHM  \$  proportion,  applied  to  any  motion  whatever-^ 
^  "  METRE 


FART  I.]  Poetry  and  its  principal  Species.  109 

(for  as  to  metre,  it  is  plainly  a  species  of  rhythm,) 
those  persons,  in  whom,  originally,  these  pro- 
pensities  were  the  strongest,  were  naturally  led 
to  rude  and  extemporaneous  attempts,  which, 
gradually  improved,  gave  birth  to  Poetry. 

VI. 

But  this  Poetry,  following  the  diiierent  cha-  its  divUiott 
racters  of  its  authors,  naturally  divided  itself  into    '."!'.- 
two  different  kinds.     They  who  were  of  a  grave    s.'l'Ls 
and  lofty  spirit,  chose,  for  their  imitation,  the  .J^ot uts. 
actions  and  the  adventures  of  ^&m/^rf characters: 
while  Poets  of  a  lighter  turn,  represented  those 
of  the  vitims  and  contemptible.     And  these  com- 
posed, originally,    Siitires ;   as    the   former  did 
Hymns  and  Encomia. 

Of  the  lighter  kind,  we  have  no  Poem  anterior 
to  the  time  of  Homer,  though  many  such,  in  all 
probability,  there  were;  but,/r^  hia  time,  we 

have ; 


'  METRE  is  proportion,  applied  to  the  motion  of  words  ' 
'  SPOKEN.  Thus,  in  the  drumming  of  a  march,  or 
'  the  dancing  of  a  hornpipe,  there  is  rhythm,  though  n^ 
'  metre-,  in  Dryden\  celebrated  Ode  there  is  metre  as 
'  welias  RHYTHM,  because  the  Poet  with  the  rhythm  has 
'  associated  certain  words.     And  hence  it  follows,  that, 

'   though  ALL  METRE  isRHYTHM,  yet  ALL  RHYTHM 

•  is  NOT  METRE."  Harrises  PhiloL  Inquiries, p.  67.- 
where  it  is  also  observed,  very  truly,  that  "  no  English 
"  word  expresses  rhythmus  better  tlian  the  word,  timer 
P.  69.  note. 


e 


Io8  General  and  cdmparative  View  of       [fart  T. 

through  this  instinct  receives  his  earliest  edu- 
cation* All  men,  likewise,  naturally  receive 
pleasure  from  imitation.  This  is  evident  from 
what  we  experience  in  viewing  the  works  of  imi- 
tative art ;  for  in  them,  we  contemplate  with  plea- 
sure, and  with  the  Twore  pleasure,  the  more  exactly 
they  are  imitated,  such  objects  as,  if  real,  we 
could  not  see  w  ithout  pain ;  as,  the  figures  of 
the  meanest  and  most  disgusting  animals,  dead 
bodies,  and  the  like.  And  the  reason  of  this  is, 
that  to  learn,  is  a  natural  pleasure,  not  confined 
to  philosophers,  but  common  to  all  men ;  with 
this  difference  only,  that  tlie  multitude  partake  of 
it  in  a  more  transient  and  compendious  manner. 
Hence  the  pleasure  they  receive  from  a  picture: 
in  viewing  it  they  learn\  they  infer,  they  discover^ 
what  every  object  is :  that  this,  for  instance,  is 
such  a  particular  man,  &c.  For  if  we  suppose 
the  object  represented  to  be  something  which  the 
spectator  had  never  seen,  his  pleasure,  in  that 
case,  will  not  arise  from  the  imitatio?7,  but  from, 
the  workmanship,  the  colours,  or  some  such 
cause. 

Imitation,  then,  being  thus  natural  to  us,  and, 
2na/j/,  MELODY  and  rhythmI  being  also  natural, 
(for 

*  See  Dr.  Beattie's  Essay  on  Poetry,  &c.  Part  l.c/i.  6. 

*  This  is  explained  in  note  22. 

t  "  Rhythm  differs  from  metre,  in  as  mucli  as 

"  RHYTHM  \s  proportion,  applied  to  any  motion  whatever  \ 

"2  "  METRE 


r  ART  I.]         Poetry  and  its  principal  Species.  109 

(for  as  to  nwtre,  it  is  plainly  a  species  of  rhythm,) 
those  persons,  in  whom,  originally,  these  pro- 
pensities  were  the  strongest,  were  naturally  led 
to  rude  and  extemporaneous  attempts,  which, 
gradually  improved,  gave  birth  to  Poetry. 

s 

VI. 

But  this  Poetry,  following  the  diflerent  cha-  its  ^Mo^, 
racters  of  its  authors,  naturally  divided  itself  into    '."1'.^' 
two  different  kinds.     They  who  were  of  a  grave    s.t'Ls 
and  lofty  spirit,  chose,  for  their  imitation,  the  Jot  Its. 
actions  and  the  adventures  of  e&r^iTerf characters: 
while  Poets  of  a  lighter  turn,  represented  those 
of  the  vitims  and  contemptible.     And  these  com- 
posed, originally.    Satires ;   as    the   former  did 
Hj/mris  and  Encomia. 

Of  the  lighter  kind,  we  have  no  Poem  anterior 
to  the  time  of  Homer,  though  many  such,  in  all 
probability,  there  were;  hut,  from  his  time,  we 

have; 


,<» 


it 


METRE  is  proportion,  applied  to  the  motion  of  words  ' 
"  SPOKEN.     Thus,  in  the  drumming  of  a  march,  or 
''  the  dancing  of  a  hornpipe,  there  is  rhythm,  though  n^ 
"  metre-,  in  Dryden\  celebrated  Ode  there  is  metre  as 
well  as  RHYTHM,  because  the  Poet  with  the  rhythm  has 
associated  certain  words.     And  hence  it  follows,  that, 

though  ALL  METRE  isRHYTHM,  yet  ALL  RHYTHM 

"  is  NOT  METRE."  Harris's  FhiloL  Inquiries,  p.  67.- 
where  it  is  also  observed,  very  truly,  that  "  no  English 
"  word  expresses  rhythmus  better  than  the  word,  timer 
P.  69.  note. 


ii 


4( 


ti 


u 


t  Id  General  and  comparative  FievJ  0/      [p Alit  t; 

have ;  as,  his  Margites,  and  others  of  the  same 
species,  in  which  the  Iambic  was  introduced  as 
the  most  proper  measure  ;  and  hence,  indeed,  the 
name  of  Iambic^  because  it  was  the  measure  in 
U'hich  tliey  used  to  iambize,  [i.e*  to  satirize ^1 
each  other. 

And  thus  these  old  Poets  were  divided  into  two 
classes — those  who  used  the  heroic  \  and  those 
who  used  the  iambic,  verse. 

And  as,  in^he^er/o^/^kind,  Homer  alone  may 
be  said  to  deserve  the  name  of  Poet,  not  only 
on  account  of  his   other  excellences,   but   also 
of  the  dramatic^  spirit  of  his  imitations ;  so  was 
he  likewise  the  first  who  suggested  the  idea  of 
Comedy,  by   substituting   ridicule   for  invective, 
and  giving  that  ridicule  a  dramatic  cast :    for  his 
Margites  bears  the  same  analogy  to  Comedy, 
€is  his  Iliad  and  Odyssey  to  Tragedy. — But 
when  Tragedy  and  Comedy,  had  once  made  their 
appearance,  succeeding  Poets,  according  to  the 
turn  of  their  genius,  attached  themselves  to  the 
one,  or  the   other,  of  these  new  species :    the 
lighter  sort,   instead  of  Iambic,  became  Cof?uc 
Poets;    the  graver,  Tragic,  instead  of  Heroic: 
and  that,  on  account  of  the  superior  dignity  and 
higher  estimation  of  these  latterybr;;^  of  Poetry. 

Whetlier 


'  i.  c.  hexameters,  composed  of  dactyls  and  spondees, 
which  were  called  heroic  (ecu 

*  Sec  Part  III.  Sect. 3. 


^Akt  I.]       Poetrj  and  its  principal  Species.  ttt 

Whether  Tragedy  has  now,  with  respect  to  it^ 
constituent  parts  ^  received  the  utmost  improve- 
ment of  which  it  is  capable,  considered  both  in 
itself,  and  relatively  to  the  theatre,  is  a  question 
that  belongs  not  to  this  place. 

VII. 

Both  Tragedy,  then,  and  Comedy,  havin<t  ori-  p«o««e«* 
ginated  in  a  rude  and  unpremeditated  manner —  Tragedt. 
the  first  from  the  Dithyrambic  hymns,  the  other 
from  those  Phallic  songs\  which,  in  many  cities, 
remain  still  in  use— each  advanced  gi^adually 
towards  perfection,  by  such  successive  improve- 
ments as  were  most  obvious. 

Tragedy,  after  various  changes,  reposed  at 
length  in  the  completion  of  its  proper  form. 
jEschylus  first  added  a  second  actor^;  he  also 

abridged 


*  i.e.  the  fable,  the  manners,  the  sentiments,  &c. 

See  Part  II.  Sect.  2. 

Of  the  licentious  and  obscene  religious  ceremony 
here  alluded  to,  the  reader,  who  has  any  curiosity  about 
It,  may  find  some  account  in  Potter's  Jntiquities  of 
Greece,  voL'u  p.  383. 

^  The  first  who  introduced  a  single  actor,  or  speaker 
between  those  choral  songs  which  originally,  we  are  told, 
formed  the  whole  of  Tragedy,  i.  e.  according  to  the  most 
usual  derivation  of  the  word,  t/ie  goat-slng'wg,  was 
Thespis,  whom  Aristotle  pas«;es  over  in  silence.  The 
itory  so  often  told,  of  him  and  his  theatrical  u^^a^^//,  ,'t 

cannot 


112  General  and  comparative  View  of       [parti, 

abridged  the  chorus,  and  made  the  dialogue  the 
principal  part  of  Tragedy.  Sophocles  increased 
the  number  of  actors  to  three,  and  added  the 
decoration  of  painted  scenery.  It  was  also  late 
before  Tragedy  threw  aside  the  short  and  simple 
fable,  and  ludicrous  language,  of  its  satyric  ori- 
ginal, and  attained  its  proper  magnitude  and 
dignity.  The  Iambic  measure  was  then  first 
adopted :  for,  originally,  the  Trochaic  tetrameter 
was  made  use  of,  as  better  suited  to  the  satyric ' 
^ ^ " and 

cannot  be  necessary  to  repeat. — Ey  introducing  a  second 
actor,  ^schylus,  in  fact,  introduced  the  dialo^e\  though 
it  seems  probable  that  the  single  speaker  of  Thespis  told 
his  tale,  in  part,  at  least,  dramatically.  See  BrumofsDisc. 
sur  rOrig.  de  la  Trag.  Sect.m. —  Theatre  des  Grecs, 
Tome  i. 


•  Satyric,  from  the  share  which  those  fantastic  beings 
called  Satyrs,  the  companions  and  play-fellows  of  Bacchus, 
had  in  the  earliest  Tragedy,  of  which  they  formed  the 
chorus.  Joking,  and  dancing,  werexssential  attributes  of 
these  rustic  semi-deities.  Hence, the  "  ludicrous  language,'' 
and  the  "  dancing  genius  "  of  the  old  Tragedy,  to  which 
the  TROCHAIC  or  running  metre  here  spoken  of  was 
peculiarly  adapted  ;  being  no  other  than  this : 

"  Jolly  mortals,  fill  your  glasses,  noble  deeds  are  done 
by  wine." 

The  reader  will  not  confound  satyric  with  satiric ;  nor 
the  Greek  satyric  drama,  with  the  satire  of  Roman  origin. 
See  Harris's  Phil,  Arrang.  p.  460.  note.  Or,  Dacier*s 
Preface  to  Horace's  Satires.  The  two  words  arc  of 
liiEFerent  derivations. 


PART  I.]         Poetry  and  its  principal  Species.  i  j • 

and  saltatorial  genius  of  the  Poem  at  that 
time ;  but  when  the  dialogue  was  formed,  nature 
Itself  pointed  out  the  proper  metre.  For  the 
iambic  is,  of  all  metres,  the  most  colloquial ;  as 
appears  evidently  from  this  fact,  that  our  com- 
mon conversation  frequently  falls  into  iambic 
verse;   sddom  into   hexameter,  and  only  when 

we  depart  from  the  usual  melody  of  speech. 

Episodes  were,  also,  multiplied,  and  every  other 
part  of  the  drama  successively  improved  and 
polished. 

But  of  this  enough :    to  enter  into  a  minute 
detail  would,  perhaps,  be  a  task  of  some  length.     ' 

VII  r. 

Comedy,  as  was  said  before,  is  an  imitation    Object 
t)f  bad  characters ;    bad,  not  with  respect  to  PRoeHEs, 
every  sort  of  vice,    but    to   the    ridiculous   comLt. 
only,  as  being  a  species  of  turpitude  or  deformity ; 
since  it  may  be  defined  to  be— a  fault  or  de- 
formity of  such  a  sort  as  is  neither  painful  nor 
destructive.     A  ridiculous  face,  for  example,  is 
something  ugly  and  distorted,  but  not  so  as  to 
cause  pain. 

The  successive  improvements  of  Tragedy,  and 
the  respective  authors  of  them,  have  not  escaped 
our  knowledge;  but  those  of  Comedy,  from  the 
little  attention  that  was  paid  to  it  in  its  origin, 
remain  in  obscurity.    For  it  was  not  till  late,  that 

^^^•^-  I  Comedy 


-s 


1 14  General  and  comparative  View  of     [part  I* 

Comedy  was  authorized  by  the  magistrate,  and 
carried  on  at  the  public  expence  :  it  was,  at  first, 
a  private  and  voluntary  exhibition.  From  the 
time,  indeed,  when  it  began  to  acquire  some  de- 
gree of  form,  its  Poets  have  been  recorded ;  but 
who  first  introduced  masks,  or  prologues,  or  aug- 
mented the  number  of  actors — these,  and  other 
particulars  of  the  same  kind,  are  unknown. 

Epicharmus  and  Phormis  were  the  first  who 
invented  comic  fables.  This  improvement,  there- 
fore, is  of  Sicilian  origin.  But,  of  Athenian 
Poets,  Crates  was  the  first  who  abandoned  the 
Iambic '  form  of  comedy,  and  made  use  of  in* 
vented  and  general  stories,  or  fables. 


PARTI.]       Poetry  and  its  principal  Species,  lie 

of  Epic  action  is  indefinite.    This,  however,  at 
first,  was  equally  the  case  with  Tragedy  itself. 

Of  their  constituent  parts,  some  are  common 
to  both,  some  peculiar  to  Tragedy.  He,  there- 
fore, who  is  a  judge  of  the  beauties  and  defects 
of  Tragedy,  is,  of  course,  equally  a  judge  with 
respect  to  those  of  Epic  Poetry:  for  all  the 
parts  of  the  Epic  poem  are  to  be  found  in 
Tragedy ;  not  all  those  of  Tragedy,  in  the  Epic 
poem. 


IX. 

Epic  Epic  Poetry  agrees  so  far  with  Tras^ic,  as  it  is 

and  ...  * 

Tragic    an  imitation  of  great  characters  and  act  ions y  by 

Species 

coMPAiiED.  means  of  words :  but  in  this  it  differs,  that  it 
makes  use  of  only  one  kind  of  metre  throughout; 
and  that  it  is  mtrrative.  It  also  differs  in  length  : 
for  Tragedy  endeavours,  as  far  as  possible,  to 
confine  its  action  within  the  limits  of  a  single 
revolution  of  the  sun,  or  nearly  so;  but  the  time 

of 


•  Iambic y  i.  e.  satirical,  and  personally  so,  like  die  old 
Iambi,  invectives,  or  lampoons,  of  which  Aristode  speaks 
above.  Sect,  6.  and  fropi  which  the  Iambic  metre,  which 
is  not  here  alluded  to,  took  its  name. 


\\ 


l2 


[    "6    1 


DEFINI- 
TION of 

Tragedj, 


Ded  action 
of  ita  con- 
stituent' 
Vakts, 


P  A  R  T    II. 

OF    TRAGEDY. 
I. 


^\  F  the  species  of  -Poetry  which  imitates  in 
^^  hexameters,  and  of  Comedy,  we  shall  speak 
hereafter.  Let  us  now  consider  Tragedy; 
collecting,  first,  from  what  has  been  already  said, 
its  true  and  essential  definition. 

Tragedy,  then,  is  an  imitation  of  some  action 
that  is  important,  ejitire^  and  of  a  proper  magni- 
tude—by  language,  embellished  and  rendered 
pleasurable,  but  by  different  means  in  different 
parts— in  the  war/,  not  of  narration,  but  of 
action — effecting  through  pity  and  terroj^  the 
correction  and  rejinement  of  such  passions. 

By  pleasurable  language^  I  mean  a  language 
that  has  the  embellishments  of  rhythm,  melody, 
and  metre.  And  I  add,  by  different  means  in 
different  parts,  because  in  some  parts  metre  alone 
is  employed,  in  others,  melody. 

ir. 

Now  as  Tragedy  imitates  by  acting,  the 
DECORATION*,  in  the  first  place,  must  neces- 
^ sarily 

*  Decoration— WitrdXly,  the  decoration  of  the  spectacle, 
•r  sight.     In   other  places  it  is  called   the   spectacle, 

or 


PART  II.]  ,       Of  Tragedy.  uy 

sarily  be  ojie  of  its  parts :  then  the  Melopceia, 
(or  Music',)  and  the  diction;  for  these  last 
include  the  means  of  tragic  imitation.  By  diction, 
I  mean  the  metrical  composition  f.  The  meaning 
of  Mebpceia  is  obvious  to  every  one. 

Again— Tragedy  being  an  imitation  of  an 
action,  and  the  persons  employed  in  that  action 
being  necessarily  characterized  by  their  manners 
and  their  sentiments,  since  it  is  from  these  that 
actions  themselves  derive  their  character,  it 
follows,  that  there  must  also  be,  manners,  and 
SENTIMENTS,  as  the  two  causes  of  actions,  and, 
consequently,  of  the  happiness,  or.unhappiness, 
of  all  men.  The  imitation  of  the  action  is  the 
fable:  for  by  fable  I  now  mean  the  contexture 
of  incidents,  or  the  plot.    By  manners,  I  mean, 

whatever 


or  sight  only— 0^/5.  It  comprehends  scenery,  dresses — 
the  whole  visible  apparatus  of  the  th^  \tr^.  I  do  not 
know  any  single  English  word,  that  an^  ers  fully  to  the 
Greek  word. 


•  Melopa^ia-^VitCTBlly,  the  making,  or  the  composition, 
of  the  Music;  as  we  use  Epopaeia,  or  according  to  the 
French  termination,  which  we  have  naturalized.  Epopee, 
to  signify  epic  poetry,  or  epic-making,  in  general.— I  might 
hive  rendered  it,  at  once,  the  music ;  but  that  it  would 
Iiave  appeared  ridiculous  to  observe,  of  a  word  s6  familiar 
to  us,  even  that  *'  its  meaning  is  obvious,'' 

t  Not  the  versif cation,  but  merely  the  metrical 
expression^-<he  language  of  the  verse.  This  si  plain  from 
the  clearer  definition,  p.  1 21, 

13 


Compara- 
tive  IM- 
PORTANCE 

of  the 
Parts. 


Il8  Of  Tragedy.  [part  ii. 

whatever  marks  the  characters  of  the  persons. 
By  sentiments^  whatever  they  say^  whether 
proving  any  thing,  or  delivering  a  general  senti- 
ment, &c.* 

Hence,  all  Tragedy  must  necessarily  contain 
sia;  parts,  which,  together,  constitute  its  peculiar 
character,  or  yei/7///y ;  fable,  manners,  dic- 
tion,   SENTIMENTS,    DECORATION,  and  MUSIC. 

Of  these  parts,  two  relate  to  the  mea72s,  one  to 
the  manner,  and  three  to  the  oi;ec/,  of  imitation*. 
And  these  are  all.  These  specific  parts\  if  we 
may  so  call  them,  have  been  employed  by  most 
Poets,  and  are  all  to  be  found  in  [almost]  every 
Tragedy. 

III. 

But  of  all  these  part^  the  most  important  is 
the  combination  of  incidents,  or,  the  fable. 
Because  Tragedy  is  an  imitation,  not  of  men, 
but  of  actions^ — of  life,  of  happiness   and  un- 

happiness : 

♦  For  a  fuller  account  of  this  part  of  Tragedy,  see 
Sect,  22. 

♦  Afusic,  and  diction,  to  the  means ^  which  are  words, 
melody,  and  rhythm  :  ^oration,  to  the  manner  of  imita- 
ting — ^i.  e.  by  representation  and  action :  fable,  manners, 
and  sentiments,  to  tl^  objects  of  imitation — i,  e.  men,  and 
their  actions,  characters,  &c. 

'  i.  c.  such  as  arc  essential  to  Tragedy,  and,  together, 
constitute  its  species, 

♦  See  the  Diss.  On  the  Provinces  of  thi  Drama,  ch,  i. 
[Dr.  Kurd's  Hor.  vol.ii.] 


(I 


r 


PART  II.]  Of  Tragedy.  119 

happiness  :  for  happiness  consists  in  action,  and 
the  supreme  good  itself,  the  very  end  of  life,  is 
action  of  a  certain  kind^ — not  quality.  Now  the 
manners  of  men  constitute  only  their  quality  or 
characters ;  but  it  is  by  their  actions  that  they 
are  happy,  or  the  contrary.  Tragedy,  therefore, 
does  not  imitate  action,  /or  the  sake  of  imitating 
manners,  but  in  the  imitation  of  action,  that  of 
manners  is  of  course  involved.  So  that  the  action 
and  the  fable  are  the  end  of  Tragedy ;  and  in 
every  thing  the  end  is  of  principal  importance. 

Again — Tragedy  cannot  subsist  without  tfC/2o;2; 
without  manners  it  may :  the  Tragedies  of  most 
modern  Poets  have  this  defect;  a  defect  common, 
indeed,  among  Poets  in  general.  As  among 
Painters  also,  this  is  the  case  with  Zeuxis,  com- 
pared with  PoLYGNOTUS :  the  latter  excels  in 
the  expression  of  the  manners;  there  is  no  such 
expression  in  the  pictures  of  Zeuxis. 

Farther — suppose  any  one  to  string  together  a 
number  of  speeches  in  which  the  manners  are 
strongly  marked,  the  language  and  the  sentiments 
well  turned ;  this  will  not  be  sufficient  to  produce 
the  proper  effect  of  Tragedy  :  that  end  will  much 

rather 


'  1.  e.  virtuous  action. — The  doctrine  of  Aristode 
was,  that  the  greatest  happiness,  the  summum  bonum  or  end 
of  life,  consisted  in  virtuous  energies  and  actions ;  not  in 
virtue,  considered  merely  as  an  internal  habit,  dipositipn, 
or  quality f  of  mind, 

14 


^^^  Of  Tragedy.  [part  ii. 

rather  be  answered  by  a  piece,  defective  in 
each  of  Uiose  particulars,  but  furnished  with 
a  proper  lable  and  contexture  of  incidents. 
Just  as  in  painting,  the  most  brilliant  colours, 
spread  at  random  and  without  design,  ^will  give 
far  less  pleasure  than  the  simplest  outline  of  a 
figure. 

Add  to  this,  that  those  parts  of  Tragedy,  by 
means  of  which  it  becomes  most  interesting  and 
affecting,  are  parts  of  the  fable;  I  mean,  r  evolu- 
tions, and  discoveries^. 

As  a  farther  proof,  adventurers  in  Tragic 
writing  are  sooner  able  to  arrive  at  excellence  in 
the  language,  and  the  manners,  than  in  the  con- 
struction  of  a  plot ;  as  appears  from  almost  all 
our  earlier  Poets. 

The  fable,  then,  is  the  principal  part,  the  soul, 
as  it  were,  of  Tragedy,-  and  the  manners  are 
next  in  rank :  Tragedy  being  an  imitation  of  an 
action,  and  through  that,  principally,  of  the 
agents. 

In  the  third  place  stand  the  sentiments. 
To  this  part  it  belongs,  to  say  such  things  as  are 
true  and  proper ;  which,  in  the  dialogue,  depends 
on  the  Political  and  Rhetorical  arts:  for,  the 

antients 


*  These  are  explained  afterwards,  Sect,  9. 

"*  The  reader,  here,  must  not  think  of  our  modern 
folitics.— The  political,  or  civil  art,  or  science,  was,  in 

Aristodc*s 


^ 


PART  II.]  0/  Tragedy.  12 1 

antients  made  their  characters  speak  in  the  style 
of  political  and  popular  eloquence ;  but  now,  the 
rhetorical  manner  prevails. 

The  fnanners  are,  whatever  manifests  the  dis- 
position of  the  speaker.  There  are  speeches, 
therefore,  which  are  without  manners,  or  cha- 
racter ;  as  not  containing  any  thing  by  which  the 
propensities  or  aversions  of  the  person  who  de- 
livers them  can  be  known.  The  sentiments  com- 
prehend whatever  is  said;  whether  proving  any 
thing,  affirmatively,  or  negatively,  or  expressing 
some  general  reflection,  &c. 

Fourth,  in  order,  is  the  diction  ;  that  is,  as 
I  have  already  said,  the  compression  of  the  senti- 
ments bi/  words ;  the  power  and  effect  of  which 
is  the  same,  whether  in  verse  or  prose. 

Of  the  remaining  two  parts,  the  music  stands 
next;  of  all  the  pleasurable  accompaniments 
and  embellishments  of  Tragedy,  the  most  de- 
lightful. 

The  DECORATION  has,  also,  a  great  effect, 
but,  of  all  the  parts,  is  most  foreign  to  the 
art.  For  the  power  of  Tragedy  is  felt  without 
representation,    and    actors;     and   the    beauty 

of 


Aristotle's  view,  of  wide  extent,  and  high  importance. 
It  comprehended  etAics  and  eloquence,  or  the  art  of  public 
speaking ;  every  thing,  in  short,  that  concerned  the  well- 
being  of  a  state,'-^Ste  note  57. 


?! 


'^^  ^  Tragedy.  [PART  ir. 

of  the  decorations  depends  more  on  the  art  of 
the  mechanic,  than  on  that  of  the  Poet^ 


IV. 


Of  the 
Fable— 

[to 
S^cL  15.J 


It  should 
be  a 

YER 


These  things  being  thus  adjusted,  let  us  go  on 
to  examine  in  what  manner  the  fable  should  be 
constructed ;  since  this  is  the  first,  and  most  im- 
portant part  of  Tragedy. 

Now  wc  have  defined  Tragedy  to  be  an 
imitation  of  an  action  that  is  complete  and 
entire;  and  that  has  also  a  certain  magiutude; 
for  a  thing  may  be  ejttire,  and  a  whole,  and  yet 
not  be  of  any  magnitude  ^. 

1.  By  entire,  I  mean  that  which  has  a  Ae- 
Whq"  -  S^^^^^Sy  a  middle,  and  an  end,  A  beginning,  is 
that  which  does  not,  necessarily,  suppose  any 
thing  before  it,  but  which  requires  something  to 
follow  it.  An  end,  on  the  contrary,  is  that  which 
supposes  something  to  precede  it,  either  neces- 
sarily, or  probably ;  but  which  nothing  is  required 
to  follow.  A  middle,  is  that  which  both  supposes 
something  to  precede,  and  requires  something  to 
•   ^       follow.    The  Poet,  therefore,  who  would  con-^ 

struct 

" ■ 

^  •  The  reader  will  find  a  usfeful  comment  on  this,  and 

the  two  preceding  sections,  in  the  PkilaUg.  Inquiries^ 
Part  11.  ch.  vi.  viii.  ix.  xi. 

»  i.  e. — not  be  large. — Magnitude  is  here  used  in  its 
proper  and  relative  sense,  of  greatness  j  and  with  refe- 
rence to  some  standard. 


.  X.' 


1  ^-^ 


PART  II.]  Of  Tragedy.  ,23 

Struct  his  fable  properly,  is  not  at  liberty  to 
begin,  or  end,  where  he  pleases,  but  must  con- 
form to  these  definitions. 

2.  Again :  whatever  is  beautiful,  whether  it  -and  or 
be  an  animal,  or  any  otli^r  thing  composed  of  MaTn^ 
diflTerent  parts,  must  not  only  have  those  parts  ^''''^* 
arranged  in  a  certain  manner,  but  must  also  be 
of  a  certain  mag7iitude;  for  beauty  consists  in 
magnitude  and  order.  Hence  it  is  that  no  very 
minute  animal  can  be  beautiful ;  the  eye  compre- 
hends  the  whole  too  instantaneously  to  distinguish 
and  compare  the  parts :— neither,  on  the  con- 
trary, can  one  of  a  prodigious  size  be  beautiful  ; 
because,  as  all  its  parts  cannot  be  seen  at  once, 
the  xvhole,  the  U7iity'  of  object,  is  lost  to  the 
spectator;  as  it  would  be,  for  example,  if  he 
were  surveying  an  animal  of  many  miles  in 
length.  As,  therefore,  in  animals,  and  other 
objects,  a  certain  magnitude  is  requisite,  but  that 
magnitude  must  be  such  as  to  present  a  whole 
easili/  comprehended  by  the  eye ;  so,  in  the  fable,  a 
certain  length  is  requisite,  but  that  length  must  be 

such 


The  unity  here  spoken  of,  it  must  be  remembered, 
IS  not  absolute  and  simple,  but  relative  and  compound, 
unity  5  a  unity  consisting  of  different  parts,  the  relation 
of  which  to  each  other,  and  to  the  whole,  is  easily  per- 
ceived at  one  view.  On  this  depends  the  perception  of 
beauty  in  form.-^ln  objects  too  extended,  you  may  be 
said  to  have  parts,  but  no  w/iole  :  in  very  minute  objects 
a  w/iole,  but  no  parts. 


/ 


Ukity 

of 

the  Fable. 


124  Of  Tragedy.  [PART  ir. 

such  as  to  present  a  whole  easilx)  comprehended  by 
the  mermry. 

With  respect  to  the  measure  of  this  length— if 
referred  to  actual  representation  in  the  dramatic 
contests,  it  is  a  matter  foreign  to  the  art  itself : 
for  if  a  hundred  Tragedies  were  to  be  exhibited 
in  concurrence,  the  length  of  each  performance 
must  be  regulated  by  the  hour-glass ;    a  practice 
of  which,   it  is  said,  there  have  formerly  been 
instances.    But,  if  we  determine  this  measure  by 
the  nature  of  the  thing  itself,  the  more  extensive 
the  fable,  consistently  with  the  clear  and  easy 
comprehension  of  the  whole,  the  more  beauti- 
ful  will  it  be,  with  respect  to   magnitude.     In 
general,  we  may  say,  that  an  action  is  sufficiently 
extended,  when  it  is  long  enough  to  admit  of 
a  change  of  fortune,  from  .happy  to  unhaf^y, 
or   the    reverse,    brought  about   by    a  succes' 
sion,  necessary  or   probable,   of  well-cojinected 
incidents. 

V. 

A  fable  is  not  one,  as  some  conceive  it  to  be, 
merely  because  the  hero  of  it  is  one.  For  num- 
berless events  happen  to  one  man,  many  of  which 
are  such  as  cannot  be  connected  into  one  event : 
and  so,  likewise,  there  are  many  actions  of  one 
man  which  cannot  be  connected  into  any  owe  ^fc/ic/;/. 
Hence  appears  the  mistake  of  all  those  Poets 
who  have  composed  Herculeids,  Theseids, 

and 


>A]^T  lij  Of  Tragedy.  ^^ 

and  other  Poems  of  that  kind.    They  conclude 
that  because  Hercuks  was  one,  so  also  must  be 
the  fable  of  which  he  is  the  subject.  But  Homer, 
among  his  many  other  excellences,  seems  also  to 
have  been  perfectly  aware  of  this  mistake,  either 
from  art  or  genius.     For  when  he  composed  his 
Odyssey,  he  did  not  introduce  all  the  events  of 
his  hero's  life,— such,  for  instance,  as  the  wound 
he  received  upon  Parnassus  *— his  feigned  mad- 
ness^  when  the  Grecian  army  was  assembling, 
&c.— events,  not  connected,  either  by  necessary 
pr  probable  consequence,  with- each  other;   but 
he  comprehended  those  only  which  have  relation 
to  one  action ',    for   such   we   call   that  of  the  ' 
Odyssey.— kwd.  in  the  same  manner  he  composed 
his  Iliad'', 

^ ^' 

*  Thh  incident  is,  however,  related,  and  at  consider- 
able  length,  in  the  xixth  book  of  the  Odyssey,  (v.  563  of 
Pope's  translation)  but  digressively,  and  incidentally;-  it 
made  no  essential  part  of  his  general  plan.— ^t^  Sect.  17. 
^  A  ridiculous  story.—"  To  avoid  going  to  the  Trojan 
«  war,  Ulysses  pretended  to  be  mad  ;    and,  to  prove  his 
"  insanity,  went  to  plough  with  an  ox  and  a  horse-,  but 
"  Palamedcs,  in  order  to  detect  him,  laid  his  infant  son, 
*'  Telemachus,  in  the  way  of  the  plough;  upon  which  - 
'^  Ulysses    immediately   stopped,   and   thereby  proved 
"  himself  to  be  in  his  right  senses."— (/%/««i,  &c.) 

*  Or,  according  to  a  different,  and  perhaps  preferable, 
reading,  thus  .—'<  but  he  planned  his  Odyssey,  as  he  also 
'*  did  his  Iliad,  upon  an  action  that  is  one  \i\  the  sense 
'*  here  explained.'VSee  the  note. 


126 


Of  Tragedy. 


[part  ir. 


K^,  therefore,  in  other  mimetic  arts,  mt  imita- 
tion^ is  an  imitation  of  one  thing,  so  here,'^  the 
fable,  being  an  imitation  of  an  action,  should  be 
an  imitation  of  an  action  that  is  one,  and  entire  ; 
the  parts  of  it  being  so  connected,  that  if  any 
one  of  them  be  either  transposed  or  taken  away^ 
the  whole  will  be  destroyed,  or  changed :  for 
whatever  may  be  either  retained,  or  omitted, 
without  making  any  sensible  difference,  is  not, 
properly,  a  part  ^. 

VI.  It 


PART  11.] 


'  i.  c.  one  imitative  work.  Thus  one  picture  repre- 
sents,  or  should  represent,  but  one  thing  ;^a  single  object, 
or  a  single  action,  &c.  So,  every  Poem,  (the  Orlando 
Furioso  as  much  as  the  Iliad,)  is  one  imitation— ont 
imitative  work,  and  should  imitate  one  TLCixon,  in  Aristode's 
sense  oi unity,  like  the  Poems  of  Homer;  not  a  number 
©factions  unconnected  with  each  other,  or  connected 
merely  by  tiieir  common  relation  to  one  person,  as  in  the 
Theseids,  &:c.  or  to  one  time,  as  in  the  Poem  of  Ariosto; 
or,  by  their  resemblance  merely,  as  in  the  Metamorphoses 
of  Ovid. 

•  «  The  painter  will  not  enquire  what  things  may  be 
''  admitted  without  much  censure.  He  will  not  think 
*'  it  enough  to  shew  that  they  may  be  there,  he  will  shew 
*'  that  they  must  be  there ;    that  their  absence  would 

*'  render  his  picture  maimed  and  defective, **  They 

''  should  make  a  part  of  that  whole  which  would  be,  im- 
**  perfect  without  them.'\ 

Sir  J.  Reynolds,  Disc,  on  Painting,  p,  io6. 


Of  Tragedy. 


VI. 


127 


It  appears,  farther,  from  what  has  been  said,    ©iffert^nt 
that  it  is  not  the  Poet's  province  to  relate  such   ^"fllT 
things  as  have  actually  happened,  but  such  as     ^^'L 
might  have  happened-such  rs  nre  possible,  ac-  ""'^•^^'^• 
cording  either  to  probable,  or  necessary,  conse- 
quence. 

For  it  is  not  by  writing  in  'cerse,  or  prose,  that 
the  Historian  and  the  Poet  are  distinguished:  the 
work  of  Herodotus  might  be  versified ;  but  it 
would  still  be  a  species  of  history,  no  less  with 
metre,  than  without.  They  are  distinguished  by 
this,  that  the  one  relates  what  has  been,  the  other 
what  might  be.  On  this  account,  Poetry  is  a  more 
philosophical,  and  a  more  excellent  thing,  than 
History :  for  Poetry  is  chiefly  conversant  about 
general  ivnih;  Hx^iovy,  ^hoxxt  particular.  In 
what  manner,  for  example,  any  person  of  a 
certain  character  would  speak,  or  act,  probably, 
or  necessarily-^ this  is  general;  and  this  is  the 
object  of  Poetry,  even  while  it  makes  use  of  par- 
ticular names.  But,  what  Alcibiades  did,  or  what 
happened  to  him— this  is  particular  truth. 

With  respect  to  Comedy,  this  is  now  become 
obvious ;  for  here,  the  Poet,  when  he  has  formed 
his  plot  of  probable  incidents,  gives  to  his  cha- 
racters  whatever  names  he  pleases;  and  is  not, 
like  the  Iambic  Poets,  particular,  and  per- 
sonaL;  - 

Tragedy, 


\ 


-,^*- 


.j„..  — 


r 


¥i 


118  0/  Tragedy.  [PART  IT. 

Tragedy,  indeed,  retains  the  use  of  real  names ; 
and  the  reason  is,  that,  what  we  are  disposed  to 
believe,  we  must  think  possible :  now  what  has 
never  actually  happened,  we  are  not  apt  to  regard 
as  possible;  but  what  has  been  is  unquestionably 
so,  or  it  could  not  have  been  at  a\l\    There  are, 
however,  some  Tragedies  in  which  one  or  two  of 
the  names  are  historical,  and  the  rest  feigned  : 
there  are  even  some,  in  which  none  of  the  names 
are  historical;  such  is  Agatho's  Tragedy  called 
The  Flower;    for  in  that,  all  i^  invention,  both 
incidents,  and  names ;    and  yet  it  pleases.    It  is 
by  no  means,  therefore,  essential,   that  a  Poet 
should  confine  himself  to  the  known  and  esta- 
blished subjects  of  Tragedy.     Such  a  restraint 
would,  indeed,   be  ridiculous;    since  even  those 
subjects  that  are  kpown,  are  known,  compara- 
tively, but  to  few,  and  yet  are  interesting  to  all. 

From  all  this  it  is  manifest ;  that  a  Poet  should 
be  a  Poet,  or  7Jiaker,  of  fables,  rather  than  of 
verses )  since  it  is  imitation  that  constitutes 
the  Poet,  and  of  this  imitation  actions  are  the 
object:  nor  is  he  the  less  a  Poet,  though  the 
incidents  of  his  fable  should  chance  to  be  such  as 

have 


^  "  or  it  could  not,  &c." — The  philosopher  might 
safely  have  trusted  to  any  reader  to  find  this  proof  o{  the 
possibility  of  what  has  actually  happened. — A  modern 
writer  would  certainly  have  omitted  this ;  and  I  wish 
Aristotle  had.  But  it  is  my  business  to  say  whatever  he 
has  said. 


PARTll.]  Of  Tragedy.  „^ 

have  actually  happened;  for  nothing  hinders,  but 
that  some  true  events  may  possess  that  pro- 
bamty\  the  invention  of  which  entitles  him  to 
the  name  of  Poet. 

r  ' 

VII. 

Oi  simple  fables  or  actions,  the  episodic  e^re  the  Ep,.,.,. 
wrsL    I  call  that  an  episodic  fable,  the  episodes^  I'l'^lU 
of  winch  follow  each  other  without  any  probable  '"'*"**• 
or  necessary  connection;    a  fault  into  which  bad 
Poets  are  betrayed   by  their  want  of  skill,  and 
good  Poets  by  the  players  :   for  in  order  to  ac- 
commodate their  pieces  to  the  purposes  of  rival 
performers  in  the  dramatic  contests,  they  spin  out 
the  action  beyond  their  powers,  and  are  thus, 

frequently, 

*  It  may  appear  to  the  reader  to  be  a  strange  observa- 
tion, that  "  some  true  events  May  be  probable."  But  he 
WiU  recollect  what  sort  o(  events,  and  what  sort  oi  pro. 
babiUty,  Aristotle  here  speaks  of:  i.  e.  of  extraordinary 
rvents,  such  as  Poetry  requires,  and  of  that  more  strict 
and  perfect  probability,  that  closer  connection  and  visible 
dependence  of  circumstances,  which  are  always  required 
from  the  Poet,  though  in  such  events,  not  often  to  be 
found  in  fact,  and  real  life,  and  therefore  not  expected 
from  the  Historian.—Scc  the  quotation  from  Diderot 

NOTE   156.  ' 

'  Episodes— episodic  circumstances  — In  the  second 
sense  explained  note  37  :  by  no  means  in  the  modern 
and  ep,c  sense,  of  a  digression,  incidental  narrative,  &c 

VOL.  I.  K 


r 


Fablf« 

SIMPLE 

or 

COMPLI- 
CAT£J». 


*3o  Of  Tragedy.  [part  if. 

frequently,  forced  to  break  the  connection  and 
continuity  of  its  parts. 

But  Tragedy  is  an  imitation,  not  only  of  a 
complete  action,  but  also  of  an  action  excitinty 
terror  and  pity.  Now  that  purpose  is  best  an- 
swered by  such  events  as  are  not  only  unexpected^ 
but  unexpected  consequences  of  each  other:  for, 
by  this  means,  they  will  have  more  of  the  won- 
derful, than  if  they  appeared  to  be  the  effects 
of  chance ;  since  we  find,  that,  amonor  events 
merely  casual,  those  are  the  most  wonderful  and 
striking,  which  seem  to  imply  design:  as  when,  for 
instance,  the  statue  of  Mitys  at  Argos  killed  the 
very  man  who  had  murdered  Mitys,  by  falling 
down  upon  him  as  he  was  surveying  it  j  events  of 
this  kind,  not  having  the  appearance  of  accident. 
It  follows  then,  that  such  fables  as  are  formed  on 
these  principles  must  be  the  best, 

VIIL 

Fables  are  of  two  sorts,  simple  and  complicated; 
for  so  also  are  the  actioiis  themselves  of  which 
they  are  imitations.  An  action,  (having  the  con-^ 
tinuity  and  unity  prescribed,)  I  cM  simple,  when 
its  catastrophe  is  produced  without  either  revo-- 
lution,  or  discovery :  complicated,  when  zvith  one, 
or  both.  And  these  should  arise  from  the  struc- 
ture of  the  fable  itself,  so  as  to  be  the  natural 
consequences,  necessary  or  probable,  of  what  has 
preceded  in  the  action.     For  there  is  a  wide 

difference 


fARTH.]  Of  Tragedy,   ,  ,31 

clifference  between  incidents  that  follow;/r^wi,  and 
incidents  that  follow  only  after,  each  other. 

IX. 

A   REVOLUTION,  is  a  change,  (such  as  has    Parts  of 

11,  .  IX.  ^'^^  Fable. 

already  been  mentioned*,)    mto  the  reverse  of       i- 

,  .  J     -  .  Revolu" 

What  IS  expected  ivom  the  circumstances  of  the     tioni. 
action ;  and  that,  produced,  as  we  have  said,  by 
probable,  or  necessary  consequence. 

Thus,  in  the  Oedipus^,  the  messenger,  meaning 
to  make  Oedipus  happy,  and  to  relieve  him  from 
the  dread  he  was  under  with  respect  to  his  mother, 
by  making  known  to  him  his  real  birth,  produces 
an  effect  directly  contrary  to  his  intention.  Thus, 
also,  in  the  Tragedy  of  Lynceus  :  Lynceus  is  led 
to  suffer  death,  Danaus  follows  to  inflict  it;  but 
the  event,  resulting  from  the  course  of  the  in- 
cidents, is,  th?it  Danaus  is  killed,  and  Lynceus 
saved. 

A  DISCOVERY,  as,  indeed,  the  word  implies,  is 
a  change  from  ufdmorvn  to  hiown,  happening 
between  those  characters  whose  happiness,  or 
unhappiness,  forms  the  catastrophe  of  the  drama, 
and  terminating  in  friendship  or  enmity. 

The 


DlSCOVK- 

R1£S. 


'  Sect.  7. — "  tstnis  t\i7Lt  zvQ  unexpected  consequences  oi 
each  oiher.** 

*  The  Oedipus  Tyrannus  of  Sophocles. 

K  2 


'3»  Of  Tragedy.  -Jpaet  ii. 

The  best  sort  of  Discovery  is  that  which  is 
accompanied  by  a  Revolution  ^  as  in  the  Oedipus. 
There  are,  also,  other  Discoveries ;  for  inani- 
mate things,  of  any  kind,   may  be  recognized  in 
the  same  manner*;  and  we  may  discover  whether 
such  a  particular  thing  was,  or  was  not,  done  by 
such  a  person  :— but  the  Discovery  most  appro- 
priated to  the  fable,  and  the  action,  is  that  above 
defined ;  because  such  Discoveries,  and  Revolu- 
tions, must  excite  either  piti/  or  terror;    and 
Tragedy  we  have  defined  to  be  an  imitation  of 
pitiable  and  terrible  actions  :    and  because,  also, 
by  them  tlie  event,  kappi/,  or  unhappy,  is  pro- 
duced. 

Now  Discoveries,  being  relative  things,  are 
sometimes  of  one  of  the  persons  only,  the  other 

being 

»  Such  is  the  discovery  of  Joseph,  by  his  brethren, 
Gen,  xlv.— the  most  beautiful  and  aiFecting  example  that 
can  be  given. 

♦  I  do  not  understand  Aristotle  to  be  here  speaking  of 
such  discoveries  of  "■  inanimate  things''  (rings,  bracelets 
&c.)  as  are  the  means  of  bringing  about  the  true  disco- 
very—that of  the  persons.  For,  in  what  follows,  it  is 
implied  that  these  "  other  sorts  of  discovery''  produce 
neither  terror  nor  pity,  neither  happiness  nor  unhappiness ; 
which  can  by  no  means  be  said  of  such  discoveries  as  are 
instrumental  to  the  personal  discovery,  and,  through  that, 
to  the  catastrophe  of  the  piece.  Of  these,  he  treats 
afterwards,  Sect.  i6.-Dacier,  I  think,  has  mistaken 
this. 


FART  H.]  €^  Tragedy.  13J 

being  already  known ;  and  sometimes  they  are 
reciprocal:  thus,  Iphigenia  is  discovered  to 
Orestes  by  the  letter  which  she  charges  him  to 
deliver,  and  Orestes  is  obliged,  by  other  means, 
to  make  himself  known  to  her  ^ 

These  then  are  two  parts  of  the  fable — Revo- 
lution and  Discovery.  There  is  a  third,  which 
we  denominate.  Disasters.  The  two  former 
have  been  explained.  Disasters  comprehend  all 
painful  or  destructive  actions ;  the  exhibition  of 
death,  bodily  anguish,  wounds,  and  every  thing 
of  that  kind. 


X. 


s. 

Disasters. 


The  parts  of  Tragedy  which  are  necessary  to 
constitute  its  quality,  have  been  already  enume- 


PARTf 

into  vvhic^ 
Tragedy 

rated.  Its  parts  of  quantity — the  distinct  parts  divioi», 
into  which  it  is  divided — are  these :  Prologue, 
Episode,  Exode,  and  Chorus;  which  last  is 
also  divided  into  the  Parode,  and  the  Stasimon. 
These  are  common  to  all  Tragedies.  Tlie  Gom- 
Ifoi  are  found  in  some  only. 

The  Prologue^  is  all  that  part  of  a  Tragedy 
which  precedes  the  Parode  of  the  Chorus. — 

The 

■  I  ■  II    — — ^— ^— — >— —  ■   I     I         I  II  ■  mmm^^tm 

^  See  Mr^  Potter's  Ewifldcs  -.-^Iphigenia  in   Tauris, 
V.  799,  &c, 

•  Prologue — This  may  be  compared  to  our  ^rst  act. 
Sec  NOTE  40, 

^3 


%\ 


'34  Of  Tragedy.  \yKKT  \u 

The  Episodt\  all  that  part  which  is  included 
between  entire  Choral  Odes.— The  Exode\  tha| 
part  which  has  no  Choral  Ode  after  it. 

Of  the  Choral  part,  the  Parode^  is  the  first 
speech  of  the  whole  Chorus:  the  Stasimm\ 
includes  all  those  Choral  Odes  that  are  without 
Anapcests  and  Trochees, 

Tlie  Commos\  is  a  general  lamentation  of  the 
Chorus  and  the  Actors  together. 

Such  are  the  separate  parts  into  which  Tra- 
gedy is  divided  Its  parts  of  quality  were  befcrq 
explained. 

Xr.  The 


PART  ir.J 


^  Episode^],  e.  a  part  introduced^  inserted,  &c.  as  all 
the  dialogue  was,  originally,  between  the  choral  odes. 
See  Part  1.  Sect.  7   iV#/^',  p.  m.  ' 

»  Exode-^\.  e.  the  going  out,  or  exit :    the  concluding 
act,  as  we  should  term  it.     The  Greek  tragedies  never 
fintihed  with  a  choral  ode. 

'  ^^'•^^^-'i.e.  entry  of  the  Chorus  upon  the  stage: 
and  hence  the  term  was  applied  to  what  they  first  sung, 
upon  their  entry.     See  the  note. 

'  Slasimon~\.  e.  staHe :  because,  as  it  is  explained, 
these  odes  were  sung  by  the  choral  troop  when  fixed  on 
ihe  stage,  and  at  restj..whereas.the  Parjdeh  said  to  have 
been  sung,  as  they  came  m.  Hence,  the  'trochaic  and 
anap^nlc  measures,  being  lively  and  full  of  motion,  were 
ad  apted  to  the  Par  ode,  but  not  to  tlie  Stasmon. 

'  From  a  verb  signifying  to  i,at  or  strike ;  alluding  to 
the  gestures  of  violent  grief. 


Of  Trageify. 


XL 


»35 


What 

ATASTRO- 


^ 


The  order  of  the  subject  leads  us  to  consider,  ^ 
In  Jthe  next  place,  what  the  Poet  should  aim  at,    ''"^»  »"<* 
and  what  avoid,  in  the  construction  of  his  fable ;    r^cter 

'  '  best 

and  by  what  means  the  purpose  of  Tragedy  may    adapted 
be  best  effected.  purposes 

of 

Now  since  it  is  requisite  to  the  peWection  of  a  Tragedy. 
Tragedy  that  its  plot  should  be  of  the  complicatedy 
not  of  the  simple  kind,  and  that  it  should  imitate 
such  actions  as  excite  terror  and  pity^  (this  being 
the  peculiar  property  of  the  Tragic  imitation,)  it 
follows  evidently,  in  the  first  place,  that  the 
change  from  prosperity  to  adversity  should  not 
be  represented  as  happening  to  a  virtuous  cha- 
racter' ;  for  this  raises  disgust,  rather  than  terror, 
or  compassion.  Neither  should  the  contrary 
change,  from  adversity  to  prosperity,  be  exhibited 
in  a  villous  character  :  this,  of  all  plans,  is  the 
most  opposite  to  the  genius  of  Tragedy,  having 
no  one  property  that  it  ought  to  have ;  for  it  is 
neither  gratifying  in  a  moral  view,  nor  affectiiigi;, 
nor  terrible.  Nor,  again,  should  the  fall  of  a 
*cery  bad  man  from  prosperous  to  adverse  fortune 
be  represented  ;  because,  though  such  a  subject 
may  be  pleasing  from  its  moral  tendency,  it  will 
produce  neither  pity  nor  terror.    For  our  pity  is 

excited 


'  i.  t.  eminently  \\vino\i%,  or  good :  for  sq  he  expresses 
it  at  the  end  of  this  section.     • 

K4 


m 


»5^  y  Tragedy.  Iwtfmi 

excited  by  misfortunes  undeservedly  suffered,  and 
our  terror,  by  some  resemblance  between  the 
sufferer  and  ourselves.  Neither  of  these  effects 
will,  therefore,  be  produced  by  such  an  event 

There  remains,  then,  for  our  choice,  the  cha- 
racter between  these  extremes;  that  of  a  per^ 
son  neither  eminently  virtuous  or  just,  nor  yet, 
involved  in  misfortune  by  deliberate  vice,  or 
villany;  but  by  some  error  of  human  frailty: 
and  this  person  sliould,  also,  be  some  one  of  high 
fame  and  flourishing  prosperity.  For  example, 
Oedipus,  Thyestes,  or  other  illustrious  men 
of  such  families, 

XII. 

^VpIT.         K^"c^  it  appears,  that,  to  be  well  constructed, 
\',K^. ';   ^  ^^*^1^>  ^^"t^a^y  to  the  opinion  of  some,  should 
vkh;';;.   ^^  "^^^^^'  ^^^her  than  double;  that  the  change  of 
fortune  should  not  be  from  adverse  to  prosperous, 
but  the  reverse;    and  that  it  should  be  the  con- 
sequence,  not  of  vice,  but  of  some  great  frailty, 
in  a  character  such  as  has  been  described,  or 
better  rather  than  zvorse. 

These 


♦  What  is  here  meant  by  a  single  fable,  will  appear 
presently  from  the  account  of  its  opposite-the  double 
f^ble.  It  must  not  be  confounded  with  the  simple  fable, 
though,  in  the  original,  both  are  expressed  by  the  same 
word.  The  simple  fable  is  only  a  fable  withut  revfdu^ 
tm^  or  dfscovery.    Sect.  8. 


KAET  Uj  Of  Tragedy.  ^ 

These  principles  are  confirmed  by  experience  • 
fK  Poets,  forn^riy,  admitted  almost  any  story 
into  the  number  of  Tragic  subjects;  but  now, 
the  subjects  of  the  best  Tragedies  are  con- 
fined to  a  few  families— to  Alcmaeon,  Oedipus, 
Orestes,  Meleager,  Thyestes,  Telephus.  and 
others,  the  suflferers,  or  the  authors,  of  some 
terrible  calamity. 

The  most  perfect  Tragedy,  then,  according  to 
fte  principles  of  the  art,  is  of  this  construction. 
Whence  appears  the  mistake  of  those  critics  who 
censure  Euripides  for  this  practice  in  his  Tra- 
gedies,  many  of  which  terminate  unhappily ;  for 
this,  as  we  have  shewn,  is  right  And,  as  the 
.  strongest  proof  of  it,  we  find  that  upon  the  stage, 
and  in  the  dramatic  contests,  such  Tragedies,  if 
they  succeed,  have  always  the  most  Tragic  efect  : 
wd  Euripides,  though,  in  other  respects,  faulty 
in  the  conduct  of  his  subjects,  seems  clearly  to  be 
the  most  Tragic  of  all  Poets. 

I  place  in  the  second  rank,  that  kind  of  fable  to 
which  some  assign  Xh^Jirst ;  that  which  is  of  a 
double  construction,  like  the  Odyssey,  and  also 
ends  in  two  opposite  events,  to  the  good,  and  to 
the  bad,  characters.  That  this  passes  for  the  best, 
id  owing  to  the  weakness  ^  pf  the  spectators,  to 
^___^____^_^^^_____^^^^^^^^  whose 

*  That  weakness  which  cannot  bear  strong  emotions, 
even  from  fictitious  distress.  I  have  known  those  who 
could  not  look  at  that  admirable  picture,  the  Ugolino  of 

Sir 


I 


Terror 

and 

Pity 

to  be 

excited  bj 
the 

ACTIOW, 

not  by  the 
Dec«- 

SATION. 


'^'  ^f  Tragedy.  [p^n,.  ^^^ 

whose  wishes  the  Poets  accommodate  their  pro- 
ductions. This  kind  of  pleasure,  how  ever,  is  not 
the /?r^/^er  pleasure  of  Tragedy,  but  belongs  ratlier 
to  Comedy ;  for  there,  if  even  the  bitterest  ene- 
mies,  like  Orestes  and  jEgisthus,  are  introduced^ 
they  quit  the  scene  at  last  in  perfect  friendship, 
and  no  blood  is  shed  on  either  side, 

XIII. 

Terror  and  pity  may  be  raised  by  the  decoration 
—the  mere  spectacle';  but  they  may  also  arise 
from  the  circumstances  of  the  action  itself;  which 
is  far  preferable,  and  sheuj  a  superior  Poet.  For 
the  fable  should  be  so  constructed,  that,  without 
the  assistance  of  the  sight,  its  incidents  may  excite 
horror  and  commiseration  in  those,  who  hear 
them  only  :  an  effect,  which  every  one,  w  ho  hears 
the  fable  of  the  Oedipus,  must  experience.  But^ 
to  produce  tliis  effect  by  means  of  the  decoration^ 
discovers 

fcr  Jos.Reynolds.~To  some  minds,  every  thing,  that 
is  not  r>5.y«/ is  ,>^,,^/,;^._But,  might  not  the  preference 
here  attributed  to  weakness,  be  attributed  to  better  causes 
—the  gratification  of  philanthropy,  the  love  of  justice, 
order,  &c.  ?-the  same  causes  which,  just  before,  induced 
Aristotle  himself  to  condemn,  as  shocking,  and  disgusting, 
those  fables  which  involve  the  virtuous  in  calamity. 

.  *  See  a  very  pleasant  paper  of  Addison's  on  this  sub. 
J£ct,  Spectator  K-  42.  We  know  the  cfFect  of  the  skull 
and  black  hangings  in  the  Fair  Penitent,  xht  scatfold  ia 
temce  Preserved,  die  tomb  in  Romeo  and  Juliet,  &c. 


fART  II.5  Of  Tragedy.  13^ 

discovers  want  of  art  in  the  Poet ;  who  must  also 
be  supplied,  by  the  public,  with  an  expensive 
apparatus^. 

As  to  tliose  Ports,  who  make  use  of  the  de- 
coration in  order  to  produce,  not  the  terrible,  but 
the  marvellous  only,  their  purpose  has  nothing  in 
common  with  that  of  Tragedy.  For  Me  are  not 
to  seek  for  every  sort  of  pleasure  from  Tragedy, 
'    but  for  that  only  which  is  proper  to  the  species. 

Since,  therefore,  it  is  the  business  of  the  Tragic 
Poet  to  give  that  pleasure,  which  arises  from  pity 
and  terror,  through  imitation,  it  is  evident,  that 
he  ought  to  produce  that  effect  by  the  circum^ 
stances  of  the  action  itself. 

XIV. 


Let  us,  then,  see,  of  what  kind  those  incidents  OfmsAf. 

TROUS 

are,  which  appear  most  terrible,  or  piteous.  Inctdektv 

^■r  ,  .  -  and  ilieir 

>iOw,  such  actions  must,  of  necessity,  happen  proper  m«- 

between  persons  who  are  either  friends,  or  ene-  "'*^^"*'*^ 

mies,  or  indifferent  to  each  other.     If  an  enemy 

kills,  or  purposes  to  kill,  an  enemy,  in  neither  case 

is 


•  ^  Among  other  public  offices,  which  the  wealthier 
citizens  of  Athens  were,  by  turns,  called  upon  to  dis- 
charge, was  that  of  the  Choragi,  who  were  obliged,  at 
their  own  expence,  to  provide  a  f^^r«j,  dresses,  and,  per- 
haps, scenes,  and  the  whole  decoration  of  theatrical 
exhibitions* 


4 


'^  ^f  Tragedy.  [part  xi. 

is  any  commisseration  raised  in  us  »,  beyond  what 
necessarily  arises  from  the  nature  of  the  action 
itself. 

The  case  is  the  same,  when  the  persons  are 
neither  friends  nor  enemies.  /Byt   when  such 
disasters   happen   between  .  friends »— when,   for 
instance,  the  brother  kills,  or  is  going  to  kill,  his 
brother,  the  son  his  father,  the  mother  her  son,  or 
the  reverse— these,  and  others  of  a  similar  kind, 
are  the  proper  incidents  for  the  Poet's  choic^] 
The  received  Tragic  subjects,  therefore,  he  is  not 
at  liberty  essentiaUy  to  alter ;  Clytcmnestra  must 
die  by  the  hand  of  Orestes,  and  Eriphyk  by  that 
of  Alcmaon :   but  it  is  his  province  to  invent 
other  subjects,  and  to  make  a  skilful  use  of  those 
which  he  finds  already  established.— What  I  mean 
by  a  skilful  use,  I  proceed  to  explain. 

The  atrocious  action  may  be  perpetrated  know- 
ingly and  intentionally ',  as  was  usual  with  the 
earlier  Poets;  and  as  Euripides,  also,  has  re- 
presented  Medea  destroying  her  children ', 


It 


I.e.  any  of  that  degree  of  commiseration,  which  it 
requisite  to  the  effect  of  the  deepest  tragedy,  such  as  is 
the  subject  of  this  section.     See  note  102. 

•  Aristotle  uses  this  word  here,  and  in  other  parts  of 
his  works,  in  a  wide  sense,  including  relations,  &c. 

•  As  in  Macbeth,  Richard  the  Third,  &c. 

•  See  Mr.  Potter's  translation  of  the  Tragedy  here 
alluded  to. 


f  ART  II.]  Of  Tragedy*  i^i 

*^It  may,  likewise,  be  perpetrated  by  those,  who 
are  ignorant,  at  the  time,  of  the  connection  between 
them  and  the  injured  person,  which  they  after- 
wards discover';  like  Oedipu^^  in  Sophocles. 
There,  indeed,  the  action  itself  does  not  make  a 
part  of  the  drama*:  the  Alcmaon  oi  AstydamaSj 
and  Telegonus  in  the  Ulysses  JVoundedy  furnish 
instances  within  the  Tragedy  ^ 
•  There  is  yet  a  third  way,  where  a  person  upon 
the  point  of  perpetrating,  through  ignorance,  some 
dreadful  deed,  is  prevented  by  asudden  discovery*. 
Beside  these,  there  is  no  other  proper  way. 
For  the  action  must  of  necessity  be  eitlier  done^ 

or 


'  As  in  the  Fatal  Curiosity  of  Lillo. 

♦  The  murder  of  Laius  by  Oedipus,  his  son,  is  sup- 
posed to  have  happened  a  considerable  time  before  the 
beginning  of  the  action. 

'  Of  these  two  dramas  nothing  more  is  known  than 
the  little  that  Aristotle  here  tells  us.  In  the  first,  the 
Poet  adhered  so  far  to  history,  as  to  make  Alcmseon  kill 
his  mother  Eriphyle,  but  with  the  improvement,  (accord- 
ing to  Aristotle's  idea,)  of  making  him  do  it  ignorantly. 
The  story  of  Telegonus  is,  that  he  was  a  son  of  Ulysses 
by  Circe ;  was  sent  by  her  in  quest  of  his  father,  whom 
he  wounded,  without  knowing  him,  in  a  skirmish  relative 
to  some  sheep,  that  he  attempted  to  carry  off  from  the 
island  of  Ithaca.  It  is  somewhat  singular,  that  the  wound 
is  said  to  have  been  given  with  a  kind  of  Otabeite  spear, 
headed  with  a  sharp  fish-bone.  Sec  Pope's  Odyssey  XL 
167.  and  the  note. 

•  Asm  Merope;  Aristotle's  own  example. 


n 


»4*  .  Of  Tragedy.  f part  ,j; 

or  mt  done,  and  that,  either  with  kmuledge,  or 
without:  but  of  all  these  ways*,  that  of^b^jng 
ready  to  execute,  knowingly,  and  yet  mt  executing, 
l^  18  the  worst;  for  this  is,  at  the  same  time,  shock- 
ing, and  yet_not  Tragic,  because  it  exhibits  no 
disastrous  event.     It  is,  therefore,  never,  or  very 
rarely,  made  use  of.     The  attempt  of  ^tf.»,o«  to 
kill  Creon,  in  the  Antigone'',  is  an  example. 

^ext  to  this,  is  the  actual  execution  of  the 
purpose*. 

To  execute,  through  ignorance,  and  afterwards 
to  discover,  is  better:  for  thus,  the  shocking 
atrociousness  is  avoided,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
the  discovery  is  striking. 

•  But  the  best  of  all  these  ways,  is  the  last.  Thus, 
in  the  Tragedy  of  Cre^phontes,  Merope,  in  the 
very  act  of  putting  her  son  to  death,  discovers 
liim,  and  is  prevented.  In  the  Iphigema\  the 
sister,  in  the  same  manner,  discovers  her  brother ; 
and  in  the  Helle\  the  son  discovers  his  mother' 
at  the  mstant  w  hen  he  was  going  to  betray  her. 

On  this  account  it  is,  that  the  subjects  of 
Tragedy,  as  before  remarked,  are  confined  to  a 
___^ small 

*  There  is  here  much  embarrassment  and  confusion  ia 
the  original.     See  note  105, 

'  Oi Sophocles.  See  Franklin's,  or  Brumoy\s,tranJation. 
«  Th^  first  of  the  three  proper  and  admissible  ways  that 
were  enumerated  ;  that  of  Macbeth,  &c. 
^  The  Iphigenia  in  Tauris  of  Euripides. 
'  Of  this  Tragedy  nothing  farther  is  known. 


PAUt  n.]  Of  Tragedy.  ^43 

small  niinnber  of  families.  For  It  was  not  to  art^ 
but  \Q  fortune  %  that  Poets  applied  themselves,  to 
find  incidents  of  this  nature.  Hence  the  necessity 
of  having  recourse  to  those  families,  in  which  such 
calamities  have  happened. 

Of  the  Plot,  or  Fable,  and  its  requisites, 
enough  has  now  been  said. 


XV. 

With  respect  to  the  Manners, /owr  things 
are  to  be  attended  to  by  the  Poet. 

Firsty  and  principally,  they  should  be  good. 
Now  mamiers,  or  character,  belong,  as  we  have 
said  before,  to  any  speech  or  action  that  manifests 
a  certain  disposition ;  and  they  are  bad,  or  good, 
as  the  disposition  manifested  is  bad,  or  good.  This 
goodness  of  manners  may  be  found  in  persons  of 
every  description' :  the  manners  of  a  woman,  or^ 
of  a  slave,   may  be  good;   though,  in  general, 

women 


OftTie 
Mankem, 


*  i.e.  to  history  or  tradition. — See  above,  Sect,6.  />.  127, 
and  5^r/.  12. />.  136. 

^  This  is  observed,  to  shew  tlie  consistence  of  this 
first  precept  with  the  next.  The  mannefs  must  be  drawji 
as  good  as  may  be,  consistently  with  the  observance  of 
propriety,  with  respect  to  the  ^^w^r^/ character  of  different 
sexes,  ages,  conditions,  &c.  It  might  have  been  objected — 
♦*  You  say,  the  character  must  be  good.  But  suppose 
•*  the  Poet  has  to  represent,  for  instance,  a  slave  r — the 
'<  character  of  slaves  in  general  is  notoriously  had^^--^ 
•The  answer  is, — any  thing  may  be  good/«  its  kind:        ' 


•44  Of  Tragedy.  [p^^^  ,^ 

women  are,  perhaps,  rather  bad,  thau  good,  and 
slaves,  altogether  bad. 

The  second  requisite  of  tlie  manners,  is  propriety. 
There  is  a  manly  character  of  bravery  and  fierce- 
ness,  which  cannot,  with  propriety,  be  given  to 
a  woman.  , 

The  third  requisite  is  resemblance;  for  this  is 
a  different  thing  from  ihtwhdnggood,  ^nd proper, 
as  above  described  ^ 

The  fourth,  is  uniformiti/ ;  for  even  though  the 
model  of  the  Poets  imitation  be  some  person  of 
nnuniform  manners,  still  that  person  must  be  re- 
presented as  tmiformly  ummiform. 

We  have  an  example  of  manners  unnecessarily 
bad,  in  the  character  of  Menelaus  in  the  Tragedy 
of  Orestes':  of  improper  and  unbecoming  man- 
ners, in  the  lamentation  of  Ulysses  in  Scylla,  and 
in  the  speech  of  Menalippe' :  of  umnijorm  man* 
..««.___________ "^^^* 

♦  That  is,  the  manners  may  be  both  good,  and  proper 
or  becoming  ;  aad  yet  not  like.  For  example ;  should  a 
Poet  draw  Medea,  gentle,  patient,  &c.  the  manners 
would  be  botli  good,  and  l^ecoming,  but  not  like^not  con- 
formable to  die  historical  or  n-aditional  character  of  the 
individual.     The  portrait  would  be  defective. 

«  The  Orestes  of  Euripides.— Menelaus,  throughout 
this  play,  as  Mr.  Potter  has  justly  remarked,  is  "  repre- 
*'  sented  as  an  ungrateful,  unfeeling,  timid,  designing 
«  poltron.**  ^      * 

•  The  author  had  here,  no  doubt,  given  an  instance 
of  the  violation  of  resemblance  in  the  manners,  though  k 
be  wanting  in  all  the  manuscripts,— Of  the  Scylla,  nothing 


l»ARTn;]  Of  Tragedy.  "jj^^ 

ners,  in  the  Iphigenia  at  Julis;  for  there,  the 
Iphigenia,  who  supplicates  for  life,  has  no  resem- 
blance  to  the  Iphigenia  of  the  conclusion. 

In  the  manners,  as  in  the  fable,  the  Poet  should 
always  aim,  either  at  what  is  necessary,  or  what  is 
probable ;  so  that  such  a  character  shall  appear 
to  speak  or  act,  necessarily,  or  probably,  in  such  a 
manner,  and  this  event,  to  be  the  necessary  or 
probable  consequence  of  M^^.—^ Hence  it  is 
evident, 

is  known.— Some  fragments  remain  of  MenaUppc  tin 
Wise,  (for  this  was  the  title,)  a  Tragedy  of  Euripides, 
the  subject   of  which  is  a   curiosity.     Mmalippe   was 
delivered  of  two  children,  the  fruits  of  a  stolen  amour 
with  Neptune,     To  conceal  her  shame,  she  hid  them  in 
her  father's  cow-house ;  where  he  found  them,  and,  being 
less  of  a  philosopher  than  his  daughter,  took  them  for  a 
monstrous  production  of  some  of  his  cows,  and  ordered 
them  to  be  burned.    His  daughter,  in  order  to  save  them, 
without   exposing  herself,  enters  into  a  long  physical 
argument,  upon  the  principles  of  Anaxagoras,  to  cure  her 
father  of  his  unphilosophical  prejudices  about  monsters, 
and  portentous  births,  and  to  convince  him,  that  these 
infants   might  be    the   natural   children   of  his   cows. 
Part  of  this  very  speech  is  preserved  by  Dionysius  of 
Halicarnassus,  [See  the  Ox,  Eurip.  vol.iii.  p.  371.]  and 
it  is  this  masculine  philosopher  that  is  here  understood  to 
be  censured  as  an  /w/>r^/>r/V/yof  character.— How  would 
a  Tragedy  on  such  a  subject  as  this,  be  now  received  by 
an  audience  ?         . 

'  What  follows,  to  the  end  of  the  paragraph,  appears 
rather  out  of  place.  But  see  the  note.  For  development, 
see  Sect.  18.  p.  154. 

VOL.  I.  t 


f 


'"^^  'Of  Tragedy.  [VAKT  U. 

evident,  that  tlie  dtxelopment  also  of  a  fable 
should  arise  out  of  the  fable  itself,  and  not 
depend  upon  machintry,  as  in  the  Medea^,  or  in 
the  incidents  relative  to  the  return  of  the  Greeks, 
[M.ou.    in  t^,g  /^•^^9.     The  pr^^^  application  of  machi' 

nery  is  to  such  circumstances,  as  are  extraneous 
to  the  drama;  such,  as  either  happened  before 
the  tine  of  the  action,  and  could  not,  by  human 
means,  be  known;  or,  are  to  happen  after,  and 
require  to  be  foretold  :  for  to  the  Gods  we  attri- 
bute  the  knowledge  of  all  things.     Rut  nothing 
improbabk  should  be  admitted  in  the  incidents  of 
the  fable  \-  or,  it'  it  cannot  be  avoided,  it  should, 
at  least,  be  confined  to  such  as  are  without  tlie 
Tragedy  itself ;  as  in  the  Oedipus  of  Sophocles. 

Since  Tragedy  is  an  iuiitation  of  what  is  best, 
we  should  follow  the  example  of  skilful  portrait- 
painters;  who,  while  they  express  the  peculiar 
lineaments,  and  produce  a  likeness,  at  the  same 

time 


*  Of  Euripides.  Medea  is  carried  off,  at  the  end  of 
the  Tragedy,  in  a  chariot  drawn  by  flying  dragons. 
See.  Mr.  Potter's  Transl.  v.  1443,  &c. 

^  Pope's  Iliad,  II.  189,  &c.— if  the  text  here  is  right: 
but  this  is  doubtful.     See  the  note. 

'  By  incidints  of  the  fable,  Aristotle  here  plainly  means, 
all  those  actions  or  events  which  are  essential  parts  of  the 
subject  or  stoiy,  whether  previous  to  the  action,  and 
necessary  to  be  known,  or  included  in  it,  and  actually 
represented  in  the  drama.  Compare  Fart  III.  Sect,  6. 


?ART  II.]  Of  Tragedy,  147 

time  improve  upon  the  originaP.  And  thus,  too, 
the  Poet,  w  hen  he  imitates  the  manners  oi passion- 
ate men,  (or  of  indolent,  or  any  other  of  a  similar 
kind,)  should  draw  an  example  approaching  rather 
to  a  good,  than  to  a  hard  and  ferocious  character: 
as  Achilles  is  drawn,  by  Agatho,  and  by  IIomkr. 
These  things  the  Poet  should  keep  in  view ;  and, 
besides  these,  whatever  relates  to  those  senses* 
which  have  a  necessary  connection  with  Poetry : 
for  here,  also,  he  may  otten  err. — Ijut  of  this 
enough  has  been  said  in  the  treatises  already 
published. 


XVI. 

'  What  is  meant  by  a  Discovery,  has  already    Different 
been  explained.    Its  kijids  are  the  following. 

First,  the  most  inartificial  of  all,  and  to  which, 
from  poverty  of  invention,  the  generality  of  Poets 

have 


*  This  seems  intended  to  explain  his  t)iird  precept, 
of  resemblance  in  the  manners  ;  to  reconcile  it  with  his 
frst,  and  to  shew  what  sort  of  likeness  the  nature  of 
Tragic  imitation  requires. — Compare  P^r/ 1.  Sect.^^-^ 
and  P^r^IV.  Sect.S, 

*  i.e.  To  the  sight,  and  the  hearings  in  other  words, 
to  actual  representation.     See  the  note. 

^  The  reader,  who  recollects  the  conclusion  of 
Sect.  14,  where  the  author  took  a  formal  leave  of  the 
**  fable  and  Its  requisites,"  and  proceeded  to  the  second 
essential  part  of  Tragedy,  the  manners,  will  hardly  be  of 
Dacier's  opinion,  who  contends,  that  this  section  is  righdy 
placed.     His  reasons  are  perfectly  unsatisfactory. 


KINDS 

of 
Drsco- 

VJkRT. 


'4^  ^f  Tragedy.  [part  n. 

have  recourse— the  discovery  by  *cisihk  signs.  Of 
these  signs,  some  are  natural ;  as,  tlie  lance  with 
Mhich  the  family  of  the  earth-born  Thebans^  were 
marked,  or  the  stars  which  Carcinus  has  made  use 
of  in  his  Thyestes :  others  are  adventitious;  and 
of  these,  some  are  corporal,  as  scars ;  some  ex- 
ternal, as  necklaces,  bracelets,  &c.  or  the  little 
boat  by  which  the  discovery  is  made  in  the  Tra- 
gedy of  TyroK     Even  these,  however,  may  be 
employed  with  more,  or  less  skill.    The  discovery 
of  Ulyssesy  for  example,  to  his  nurse,  by  means 
of  his  scar,  is  very  different  from  his  discovery, 
by  the  same  means,  to  the  herdsmen  ^     For  all 
those  discoveries,  in  which  the  sign  is  produced 
by  way  of  proof,  are  inartificial.     Those,  which, 
like  that  in  die  JVashing  cf  Ulysses\   happen 

suddenly  and  casually^  are  better.  o 

secondly, 

*  The  descendants  of  the  original  Thebans,  who, 
according  to  the  fabulous  history,  sprung  from  the  earth 
when  Cadmus  sowed  die  Dragon's  teeth,  &c.— This 
uoh/e  race  are  said  to  have  been  distinguished  by  the 
natural  mark  of  a  lance  upon  their  bodies. 

^  Sophocles  wrote  two  Tragedies  of  this  name, 
neither  of  them  preserved.— Tlie  story  of  Tyro  leads 
us  to  suppose,  that  Aristotle  means  the  little  boat,  trough, 
or,  as  some  render  it^  cradle,  in  which  Tyro  had  exposed 
her  children,  on,  or  near,  the  river:  the  particular 
manner  of  the  discovery,  it  would  be  in  vain  to  guess.  ' 

""  See  Pope's  Odyssey,  XIX.  v.  451,  ficc.  and  the  note 
there,  on  v.  461,  and  XXI.  226. 

'  The  antients  disringuished  die  different  parts  of 
Homer's  Poems  by  different  tides  accommodated  to  the 

different 


'ART  II.]  Of  Tragedy.  149 

A&cowrf/y— Discoveries  invented,  at  pleasure, 
by  the  Poet,  and,  on  that  account,  still  inartificial. 
For  example ;  in  the  Iphigenia,  Orestes,  after 
having  discovered  his  sister,  discovers  himself  to 
her.  She,  indeed,  is  discovered  by  tlie  letter :  but 
Orestes,  by  [verbal  proofs:]  and  these  are  such,  as 
the  Poet  chuses  to  make  him  produce,  not  such, 
as  arise  from  the  circumstances  of  the  fable^. 
This  kind  of  discovery,  therefore,  borders  upon 
the  fault  of  that  first  mentioned  :  for,  some  of  the 
things  from  which  those  proofs  are  drawn,  are 
even  such,  as  might  have  been  actually  produced 
as  visible  sis^ns. 

Another  instance,  is  the  discovery  by  the  sound 
of  the  shuttle  in  the  Tokens  of  Sophocles. 

Thii^dly — The  Discovery  occasioned  by  memory; 

as,  when  some  recollection  is  excited  by  the  view 

of  a  particular  object.     Thus,  in  the  Cyprians 

of  Dicceogenes,  a  discovery  is  produced  by  tears 

shed  at  the  sight  of  a  picture :  and  thus,  in  the 

Tale  of  Alcinous,  Ulysses,  listening  to  the  bard, 

recollects,  weeps,  and  is  discovered  ^       ^ 
Tourthly, 

different  subjects,  or  episodes ;  l^ii,  in  referring  to  him, 
they  made  use  of  these,  not  of  the  division  into  books\ 
Thus,  the  part  of  the  xixth  book  of  the  Odyssey  above 
referred  to,  was  called  The  JVashing.  The  Tale  of 
Jlcinous  was  another  title,  which  will  presendy  be  men- 
tioned: See  the  NOTE  on  that  passage. 

•    See  Mr.  Potter's  translation   of  the  Iphigenia  in 
Tauris,  v.  884  to  910. 
»  Pope's  Odytiey,  VIII.  569,  8tc. 

1-3 


I 


ti 


it 


^^^  Of  Tragedy.  [part  ii. 

Fourthly— the  discovery  occasioned  by  reason- 
ing or  biferejice' ;  such  as  that  in  the  Choephorce: 
''  The  person,  who  is  arrived,  resembles  me— no 
"  one  resembles  me  but  Orestes— it  must  be  he ! " 
And  that  of  Polyides  the  Sophist,  in  his  Iph'igenia  *; 
for  the  conclusion  of  Orestes  was  natural.—'*  It 
had  been  his  sisters  lot  to  be  sacrificed,  and  it 
was  now  his  oivnr    That,  also,  in  the  Tijdcus 
of  Thcodtctes :—''  He  came  to  find  his  son,  and 
''  he   himself  must  perish!"      And   thus,   the 
daughters  oi  PKineus,  in  the  Tragedy  denominated 
from    thcm^    viewing   the  place  to  which  they 
were  led,  infer  their  fate  \—''  there  they  were  to 
'*  die,  for  there  they  were  exposed!"     There  is 
also  a  compound  sort  of  discovery,  arising  from 

false 

'  Occasioned  by  reasoning ;— i.  e.  by  reasoning,  (or 
rather,  inference,  or  conclusion,)  in  the  person  discovered. 
See  the  note.— It  should  be  remembered,  that  Aristotle 
is  not,  in  this  chapter,  inventing  discoveries,  nor  enu- 
merating all  the  kinds  possible  or  practicable;  but  only 
classing  and  examining  such,  as  he  found  in  use,  or  could 
recollect,  in  the  Trage^es  and  Epic  Poems  of  his  time. 

*  The  subject  appqlrs  to  have  been  the  same,  as  that 
of  the.  Iphigenia  in  Tauris  of  Euripides.  We  are  to 
suppose,  that  Orestes  was  discovered  to  his  sister  by  this 
natural  exclamation,  at  the  moment  when  he  was  led  to 
the  altar  of  Diana  to  be  sacrihced. 

^  Of  this,  and  the  preceding  Tragedy,  we  know 
nothing,  but  what  we  learn  here:  i.e.  that  in  the  one, 
a  father,  and  in  the  other,  the  daughters  of  Phineus,  were 
discovered,  and,  probably,  saved,  by  those  exclamations. 


f  ART  II.]   *  Of  Tragedy.  i^i 

false  inference  in  the  audience  ;  as  in  Ulysses  the 
False  Messenger :  he  asserts,  that  he  shall  know 
the  bow,  which  he  had  not  seen ;  the  audience 

« 

falsely  infer,  that  a  discovery,  by  that  means,  w  ill 
follow* 

But,  of  all  Discoveries,  the  best  is  that,  which 
arises  from  the  action  itself  and  in  u  hich  astrikifig 
effect  is  produced  by  probable  incidents.  Such 
is  that  in  the  Oedipus  of  Sophocles  :  and 
ttiat  in  the  Iphigenia ;  for  nothing  more  natural 
than  her  desire  of  conveying  the  letter.  Such 
discoveries  are  the  best,  because  they  alone  are 
effected  without  the  help  of  invented  proof s^  or 
bracelets,  &c.* 

Next  to  these,  are  the  discoveries  by  infere?2ce. 

•■ 
XVII. 

The  Poet,  both  when  he  plans,  and  uhen  he  Pkacti. 
writes,  bis  Tragedy,  should  put  himself,  as  much  Directio> 
as  possible,  in  the  place  of  a  spectator;  for,  by  tr'acTc 
this  means,  seeing  everything  distinctly,  as  if  pre- 
sent at  the  action,  he  will  discern  what  is  proper, 
and  no  inconsistences  will  escape  him.  The 
fault   objected   to    Carcimis  is  a  proof  of  this. 

Ampbiaraus 

♦  The  original  here  is  all  incurable  corruption,  and 
impenetrable  obscurity.     See  the  note. 

'  All  this  is  extremely  perplexing.     I  must  refer  the  , 
reader  to  the  note  ; — but,  certainly,  with  no  promise 
of  any  thing  like  perfect  satisfaction, 

L4 


Poet. 


^^^  ^/  Tragedy.  [p^Rx  li. 

AmpUaratish^A  leu  the  temple*:  this,  the  Poet, 
for  want  of  conceiving  the  action  to  pass  befbre 
his  eyes,  overlooked ;  but  in  the  representation, 
the  audience  were  disgusted,  and  the  piece 
condemned. 

In  composing,  the  Poet  should  even,  as  much 
as  possible,  be  an  actor:  for,  by  natural  sym- 
paUiy,  they  are  most  persuasive  and  affecting,  who 
are  under  the  influence  of  actual  passion."  We 
share  the  agitation  of  those,  who  appear  to  be 
truly  agitated-the  anger  of  those,  who  appear  to 
be  truly  angry. 

Hence  it  is,  that  Poetry  demands,  cither  great 
natural  quickness  of  parts,  or  an  enthusiasm 
allied  to  madness.  By  the  first  of  these,  we 
mould  ourselves  with  facility  to  the  imitation  of 
every  form  ;  by  the  otlier,  transported  out  of  our- 
selves, we  become  what  we  imagine. 

When  the  Poet  invents  a  subject,  he  should, 
first,  dra.v  a  general  sketch  of  it,  iind  afterwardl 
give  it  the  detail  of  its  Episodes,  and  extend 
It.  The  general  argument,  for  instance,  of  tlic 
Iphigaiia\  should  be  consideied  in  this  way: 
A  virgin, 

*  As  the  subject  of  this  Tragedy  is  not  known,  it 
seems  impossible,  from  what  is  here  said,  even  to  gu'ess 
how  tliis  was. 

'  ^«  Tauris.^rht  general  spirit  of  tliis  precept  of 
Aristotle  ,s  well  illustrated  by  Diderot  in  the  Essgi  su^  la 
PoesicDram,  at  the  end  of  his  Pcre  dc  FaMilk,  p.  292, 5cc. 
"  Surtout,  s'imposer  la  loi  de  ne  pas  Jeter  surle  papier 
'^  une  seule  idee  de  detail,  que  \tplan  ne  soit  arrete,"  &c. 


PART  II.]  Of  Tragedy,  153 

**  A  virgin,  on  the  point  of  being  sacrificed,  is  im- 
*'  perceptibly  conveyed  away  from  the  altar,  and 
"  transported  to  another  country,  where  it  was 
"  the  custom  to  sacrifice  all  strangers  to  Diana. 
"  Of  these  rites  she  is  appointed  priestess.  It 
"  happens,  some  time  after,  that  her  brother 
"  arrives  there."  But  why? — because  an  oracle 
had  commanded  him,  for  some  reason  exterior 
to  the  general  plan.  For  what  purpose  ? — This, 
also,  is  exterior  to  the  plan. — **  He'  arrives,  is 
"  seized,  and,  at  the  instant  that  he  is  going  to 
"  be  sacrificed,  the  discovery  is  made." — And 
this  may  be,  either  in  the  way  of  Euripides,  or 
like  that  of  Polyides^,  by  the  natural  reflection  of 
Orestes,  that — *'  it  was  his  fate  also,  as  it  had 
**  been  his  sister's,  to  be  sacrificed ; "  by  which 
exclamation  he  is  saved. 

After  this,  the  Poet,  when  he  has  given  names 
to  his  ciiaracters,  should  proceed  to  the  Episodes 
of  his  action  ;  and  he  must  take  care,  that  these 
belong  properly  to  the  subject;  like  that  of  the 
madness  of  Orestes,  which  occasions  his  being 
taken,  and  his  escape  by  means  of  the  ablution'. 
In  dramatic  Poetry  the  Episodes  are  short;  but, 
in  the  Epic,  they  are  the  means  of  drawing  out 
the  poem  to  its  proper  length.  The  general  story 
of  the   Odyssey,    for  example,  lies  in  a  small 

compass : 

'  See  the  preceding  section. 

^  See  V.301,  &.P.  and  r,  1248,  5cc.  of  Mr.  Potter's 
translation. 


i( 


I 


»54  Of  Tragedy.  ,  [p^rt  i,. 

compass :    "  A  certain  man  is  snpposed  to  be 
"  absent  from  his  ow  n  country  for  many  years— 
1^'  he  is  persecuted  by  Neptune,  deprived  of  all 
"  his  companions,  and  left  alone.     At  home,  his 
"  affairs  are  in  disorder— the  suitors  of  his  wife 
"  dissipating  his  wealth,  and   plotting  the  de- 
•^'  struction  of  his  son.  Tossed  by  many 'tempests. 
"  he  at  length  arrives,  and,  making  himself  known 
^"  to   some  of  his  family,  attacks  his   enemies, 
"  destroys  them,  and  remains  himself  in  safety." 
This  is  the  essential ;  the  rest  is  Episode. 

XVIII. 

.A^T°oNa'„'d       ^^^"7  Tragedy   consists  of  two    parts— the 
DrvzLop.  complication,  and  the  development'.     The  com- 
•f  «he  Plot,  plication  is  often  formed  by  incidents  supposed 
prior  to  the  action,  and  by  a  part,  also,  of  those 
that  are  within  the  action ;  the  rest,  form  the  de- 
velopment. I  call  complication,  all  that  is  between 
the  beginning  of  the  piece,  and   the   last  part, 
where  the  change  of  fortune  commences  -.—deve- 
lopment, all  between  the  beginning  of  that  change, 
and  the  conclusion.     Thus,  in  the  Lifnccus  "of 
Theodectes,  the  events  antecedent  to  the  action, 
^^^  and 

■  Literally,  the  tying,  and  umy,-,g.  Wiih  the  French, 
Ncmd,  and  Denouement,  are  coi.venieni  and  est.iblislied 
terras.  I  hope  I  shall  be  pardo.ied  for  avouhnj  ojr 
awkward  expressions  of  the  intrigue  and  unruvULng  of  a 
plot,  &c.  I  could  hnd  no  tcni.s.  less  exceptionable 
than  those  I  have  used. 


PART  II.]  Of  Tragedy.  155 

and  the  seizure  of  the  child,  constitute  the  com- 
plication ;  the  development  is  from  the  accusation 
of  murder  to  the  end '. 


KINDS 

of 

TuAGEDr. 


XIX. 

There  are  four  kinds  of  Trasedy,  deducible    r^'fferent 

®         '^  ^  KINDS 

from  so  inany  parts^  which  have  been  mentioned. 

One  kind  is  the  com  plicated;  where  all  depends 

on  revolution  and  discovery :  anotlier  is  the  dis- 

ASTROus^such  as  those  on  the  subject  of  v^flfo:' 

or  Lvion :  another,  the  moral'^,  as  the  PhthiotideSy 

and  the  Peleus :  and,  fourthly,  the  simple,  such 

as  the  Phorcides\  the  Pro??ietheics,  and  all  those 

Tragedies,  the  scene  of  which  is  laid  in  the  in- 

fernal  regions. 

It 

*  Of  the  plot  of  this  Tragedy  nothing  is  known. 
See  the  note. 

'  For  these  two  kinds,  see  above,  Sect.  8,  and  9. 

♦  i.e.  In  whicli  the  dehneation  of  manners  or  character 
is  predominant.  See  the  note. — Our  language,  I  think, 
wants  a  word  to  express  this  sense  of  the  Greek  hSiKov^ 
and  the  Latin,  moratum.  Mannered^  has,  I  believe,  some- 
times been  used  in  this  sense  ;  but  so  seldom,  as  to  sound 
awkwardly.  We  know  nothing  of  the  subjects  here 
given  as  examples. 

5  Mschylus  wrote  a  Tragedy  so  named.  It  is  difficult 
to  imagine  what  he  could  make  of  these  three  curieus 
personages,  who  were  horn  oldwomen^  lived  under  ground, 
and  had  but  one  eye  among  them,  which  they  used  by 
turns  ;  carrying  it,  I  suppose,  in  a  case,  like  a  pair  of 
spectacles. — Such  is  the  tale  !  See  Mr.  Potter's  ^schylus^ 
p.  49,  quarto. 


t^ 


'56  Of  Tragedy.  fp^^  „. 

It  sliould  be  the  Poet's  aim  to  make  himself 
roaster  of  all  these  manners  ;  of  as  many  of  them 
at  least,  as  possible,  and  those  the  best:  especially' 
considermg  the  captious  criticism,  to  which '  in 
these  days,  he  is  exposed.  For,  the  public,  havin<. 
now  seen  different  Poets  excel  in  each  of  these 
different  kinds,  expect  every  singk  Poet  to  unite 
in  himself,  and  to  surpass,  the  pec.liar  excellences 
of  them  aU. 

'  One  Tragedy  may  justly  be  considered  as  the 
same  with  another,  or  different,  not  according  as 
the  subjects,  but,  rather,  according  as  the  com- 
pheation  and  development,  are  the  same  or  diffe- 
rent-Many Poets,  when  they  have  complicated 
well,  d^dop  badly  ^  They  should  endeavour  to 
deserve  equal  applause  in  both. 

XX.  We 

•  What  follows  seems  rather  to  belong  to  the  pre- 
ceding sect.o„.  But  perhaps  Aristotle  was  led  to  thi, 
observauon  here,  by  what  he  had  just  dropped  about  the 
unfair  and  cavilling  criticise  of  the  times,  which  pro- 
bably,  (as  Dacier  has  ren.arked,)  denied  the  praise  of 
invenfon  to  those  who  composed  Tragedies  upon  old 
subjects,  with  old  titles,  which,  we  see,  was  the  common 
practice  of  the  Greek  Poets. 

,K  V^^'fi'"  commons  see  note  59.-11  was  with 
the  Greek  Tragedians,  probably,  as  with  Shahpeau - 
'  In  many  of  l,is  plays  the  latter  part  is  eviden.ly  neg- 
"  Iccted.  When  he  found  himself  near  the  end  of  his 
^1  work,  and  i„  view  of  his  reward,  he  shortened  the 
labour,  to  snatch  the  profit.  He  therefore  remits  his 
■*  "  efforts 


PART  II.] 


Of  Tragedy. 


157 


XX. 

We  must  also  be  attentive  to  what  has  been 
often  mentioned  ^  and  not  construct  a  Tragedy 
upon  an  Epic  plan.  By  an  Epic  plan,  I  mean,  a 
fable  composed  of  many  fables^  \  as  if  any  one, 
for  instance,  should  take  the  entire  fable  of  the 
Iliad  for  the  subject  of  a  Tragedy.  In  the 
Epic  Poem,  the  length  of  the  whole  admits  of  a 
proper  magnitude  in  the  parts ;  but  in  the  drama, 
the  eftiect  of  such  a  plan  is  far  different  from  what 
is  expected.  As  a  proof  of  this,  those  Poets, 
who  hav  e  formed  the  whole  of  the  destruction  of 
Troy  into  a  Tragedy,  instead  of  confining  them- 
selves (as  Euripides,  but  not  JEschylus,  has  done, 
in  the  story  of  Niobe,)  to  a  part,  have  either  been 
condemned  in  the  representation,  or  have  con- 
tended without  success.  Even  Agatho  has  failed 
on  this  account,  and  on  this  only ;  for,  in  revo- 
lutionSj  and  in  actions  also  of  the  simple  kind, 
these  Poets  succeed  wonderfully  in  what  tliey  aim 
at ;  and  that  is,  the  union  of  Tragic  effect  with 

moral 

*'  efforts  where  he  should  most  vigorously  exert  them, 
"  and  his  catastroplie  is  improbably  produced,  or  im- 
"  perfectly  represented/'  Johnson's  Prcf.  to  Shakspeare. 

»  See  Part  I.  Sect.  9.— IL  Sect,  7. 


?  i.  e.— of  many  distinct  parts,  or  Episodes,  each  of 
them  capable  of  furnishing  a  Tragic  fable.  Compare 
Part  in.  Sect.  i.  and  V.  Sect.  3.  about  the  wantof  i/r/Vf 
unity  in  the  epic  fable. 


Too  ^eat 

EXTENT 

of 
Plan 
to  be 

avoided. 


Of  the 
Chokus. 


'5^  Of  Tragedy.  [PART  ii. 

moral  tendency:  as  when,  for  example,  a  character 
of  great  wisdom,  but  without  integrity,  is  deceived, 
like  Sisyphus;  or,  a  brave,  but  unjust  man,  con- 
quered. Such  events,  as  Agatho  says,  are  pro- 
bable, "  as  it  is  probable,  in  general,  that  many 
"  things  should  happen  contrary  to  probability." 

XXL 

The  Chorus  should  be  considered  as  one  of 
the  persons  in  the  drama' ;  should  be  a  part  of 
the  zihole,  and  a  sharer  in  the  action  ;  not  as  in 
Euripides\  but,  as  in  Sophocles,     As  for  other 

Poets — . 


'  Jctoris  partes  chorus,  officiumque  virile 
Defendat :  neu  quid  medios  intercinat  actus, 
Quod  non  proposito  conducat  &  hareat  apt}, 

Hor.  A.  p.  193. 
*  This  expression  does  not,  I  think,  necessarily  imply 
any  stronger  censure  of  Euripides,  than  that  the  Choral 
Odes  of  his  Tragedies  were,  in  general,  more  loosely 
connected   with  the   subject,  than  those    of  Sophocles ; 
which,  on  examination,  would,  I  believe,  be  found  true! 
For,  that  this  is  the  fault  here  meant,  not  the  improper 
'*  choice  of  the  persons  who  compose  the  Chorus^'  as  the 
ingenious  translator  of  Euripides  understands,  is,  I  think, 
plain  from  what  immediately  follows ;  the  connection 
being  this:-"  Sophocles  is,  in  this  respect,  most  perfect ; 
-  Eunpides  less  so;  as  to  the  others,  M./r  choral  songs 
•*  are  totally  foreign  to  the  subject  of  their  Tragedies'"" 
See   Mr.  Porter's  £«r;>;./..- Postscript   to   the    Ttojan 
Dames,     Dr.  Warton's  Essay  on   the   Genius,  &c.  of 
^ope,yQ\,\,  p.  71. 


PART  II.]  Of  Tragedy,  1^9 

Poets — their  choral  songs  have  no  more  con- 
nection with  their  subject,  than  with  that  of  any 
other  Tratredy  :  and  hence,  they  are  now^  become 
detached  pieces,  inserted  at  pleasure' :  a  practice 
first  introduced  by  Agatho,  Yet  where  is  the 
difference,  between  this  arbitrary  insertion  of  an 
Ode,  and  the  transposition  of  a  speech^  or  even  of 
a  v\hole  Episode,  from  one  Tragedy  to  another? 


XXII. 

Of  the  other  parts  of  Tragedy  enough  has 
now  been  said.  We  are  next  to  consider  the 
Diction,  and  the  Sentiments. 

For  what  concerns  the  sentiments,  we  refer  to 
the  principles  laid  down  in  the  books  on  Rhetoric, 
for  to  that  subject  they  more  properly  belong. 
The  sentiments  include  whatever  is  the  object  of 

speech ; 


'  It  is  curioiis  to  trace  the  gradual  extinction  of  the 
Chorus.  At  first,  it  was  all ;  then,  relieved  bv  the  in- 
tcrmixture  of  dialogue,  but  si\\\  principal ;  then,  subordinate 
to  the  dialogue ;  then  digressive,  and  /*//  connected  with 
the  piece ;  then  borrowed  from  other  pieces  at  pleasure — 
and  so  on,  to  the  fiddles  and  the  act-tunes,  at  which 
Dacier  is  so  angry.  (See  his  Note  p.  335.)  The  per- 
formers in  the  orchestra  of  a  modern  theatre,  are  little, 
I  believe,  aware,  that  they  occupy  the  place,  and  may 
consider  themselves  as  the  lineal  descendants,  of  the 
antient  Chorus, — Orchestra  (o^x^roa)  was  the  name  of 
that  part  of  the  antient  theatre,  which  was  appropriated 
to  the  Chorus.    [Jul.  Pollux,  lY,p,^2^.] 


Of  the 

Senti- 

UENTf. 


f 


160  Of  Tragedy.  [p^RT  II. 

Speech^',  as,  for  instance,  to  prove,  to  confute,  to 
move  the  passions— pity,  terror,  anger,  and  the 
like  ;  to  amplify,  or  to  diminish.  But  it  is  evident, 
that,  with  respect  to  the  things  themselves  also^ 
when  the  Poet  would  make  them  appear  pitiable, 
or  terrible,  or  great,  or  probable,  he  must  draw 
from  the  same  sources ;  with  this  difference  only, 
that,  in  the  drama,  these  things  must  appear  to 
be   such,    without   being  shew7i   to   be   such^; 
whereas,  in  oratory,  they  must  be  made  to  appear 
so  by  the  speaker,  and  in  consequence  of  what  he 
says :  otherwise,  what  need  of  an  orator,  if  they 
already  appear  so,  in  themselves,  and  not  through 
his  eloquence  ? 

XXIII. 

With  respect  to  Diction,  one  part  of  its  theory 
e^plniTj  ^^  ^^^^^  ^^hich  treats  of  th^  figures''  of  speech; 
'  such 

♦  See  Harris's  Philolog.  Inquiries,  p.  1 7 3,  &c. 

'  Things  themselves-^u  e.  the  events,  incidents,  &c.  of 
the  fable,  as  opposed  to  the  sentiments,  or  thoughts.  Sec 
the  NOTE. 

*  The  circumstances  which  form  the  fablo  of  Lear, 
Othello,  Oedipus,  &c.  are  such,  as  must  of  themselves^ 
always  appear  in  the  highest  degree  atrocious,  terrible, 
piteous,  &c.  whether  the  Poet  be  a  Shakspeare,  or  a 
Tate,     See  the  note. 

'  Figures  of  speech— not  in  the  usual  sense  of  that 
expression  ;  as  appears,  indeed,  from  his  instances.  Sec 
the  note;  and  Hermes,  I.  8.  about  the  modes:  parti- 
cularly, NOTE  (c.) 


# 


Of  the 

DlCTIOK. 


TART  11.]  Of  Tragedy.  161/ 

such  as,  commanding,  entreating,  relating,  mena- 
cing, interrogating,  answering,  and  the  like. 
But  this  belongs,  properly,  to  the  art  of  acting, 
and  to  the  professed  masters  of  that  kind.  The 
Poet's  knowledge,  or  ignorance,  of  these  things, 
cannot  any  way  materially  affect  the  credit  of 
his  art.  For  who  will  suppose  there  is  any  justice 
in  the  cavil  of  Protagoras— that,  in  the  words, 
"  The  wrath,  O  goddess,  sing  V  the  Poet,  where 
he  intended  a  prayer,  had  expressed  a  command: 
for  he  insists,  that  to  say.  Do  this,  or  do  it  not,  is 
to  command, — This  subject,  therefore,  we  pass 
over,  as  belonging  to  an  art  distinct  from  that 
of  Poetry. 

XXIV. 

To  ALL  Diction,  belong  the  following  parts  :  Analt«» 
— the  letter,  the  syllable,  the  conjunction,  the  Dictiow, 
mu7i,  the  verb,  the  article^  the  cose,  the  dis-  lakguac. 
course  or  speech, 

1 .  A  letter  is  an  indivisible  sound  ;  yet  not  all 
such  sounds  are  letters,  but  those  only  that  are 
capable  of  forming  an  intelligible  soimd.  For 
there  are  indivisible  sounds  of  brute  creatures  ; 
but  no  such  sounds  are  called  letters.  Letters 
are  of  three  kinds ;  vowels,  semivowels,  and  mutes. 
The  voxcel,  is  that,  which  has  a  distinct  sound 

without 


in  gentrai. 


'  In  the  opening  of  the  Iliad. 
vol.  I.  M 


li 

If 

I' 


# 


v 


'^*  Of  Tragedy.  [PART  II. 

without  articulation';  as  A,  or  O.— The  semi- 
vowel^ that  which  has  a  distinct  sound  with 
articulation,  as  S,  and  R.  The  mutey  that  which, 
with  articulation,  has  yet  no  sound  by  itself;  but 
joined  with  one  of  those  letters  that  have  some 
sound,  becomes  audible ;  as,  G,  and  D.  These 
all  differ  from  each  other,  as  they  are  produced 
by  different  configurations,  and  in  different  parts, 
of  the  moutli ;  as  they  are  aspirated  or  smooth, 
long  or  short ;  as  their  tone  is  acute,  grccce,  or 
intermediate:  the  detail  of  all  which,  is  the 
business  of  the  metrical  treatises. 

2.  A  syllable,  b  a  sound  without  signification, 
composed  of  a  mute  and  a  vowel :  for  G  R^ 
without  A,  is  not  a  syllable;  with  A,  as 
G  R  A,  it  is.  But  these  differences,  also,  are 
the  subject  of  the  metrical  art. 

3.  A  con- 


•  Literally,  percussion :  i  e,  of  the  tongue  against  the 
palate,  or  teeth,  the  lips  against  the  teeth,  or  against  each 
other,  and  all  the  other  modes  of  consonant  articulation. 
Sec  Hermes,  III.  2.  p.  322.  where  they  are  called 
*'  contacts^  Dacier  makes  sad  confusion  here,  both  in 
his  version,  and  his  notes,  by  confounding  the  names  of 
the  consonants,  when  vowels  arc  prefixed,  or  put  after 
them,  to  make  them  separately  promuneihle,  (Te,  eF, 
cL,  &c.)  with  their  powers  in  composition — as  elements 
o(  words.  Thus,  it  is  stricdy  true,  that  S  and  R,  have 
a  smndy  without  the  assistance  of  a  vowel,  merely  by 
their  mode  of  articulation.  But  D,  or  G,  have  no  sound 
at  all  by  themselves.  The  semivowels  arc  1,  m,  n,  r,  s. 
{Dion.  Hal'uarn.  Pe  Struct.  Orat.  ?cct.  14.) 


FART  II.]  Of  Tragedy.  163 

3.  A  conjunction^  is  a  sound  without  significa- 
tion,     ********      q{  s^c^^  ^ 

nature,  as,  out  of  several  sounds,  each  of  them 
significant,  to  form  one  significant  sound '. 

4.  An  article^  is  a  sound  without  signification, 
which  marks  the  beginnings  or  the  end  of  a  sen- 
tence;  or  distinguishes^ y  as  when  we  say,  the 

word  f»)/A* — THE   word   Trs^*,  &c. 

*♦**#*#** 

5.  A  noun,  is  a  sound,  composed  of  ^ther 
sounds;  significant,  without  expression  of  time; 
and  of  which  no  part  is  bi/  itself  sigriificajit :  for 
even  in  double  words,  the  parts  are  not  taken  in 
the  sense  that  separately  belongs  to  them.  Thus, 
in  the  word  Theodoras,  dorus  is  not  significant^ 

6.  A  verb,  is  a  sound  composed  of  other 
sounds ; — significant — with  expression  of  time — 
and  of  which,  as  of  the  noun,  no  part  is  by  itself 
significant.  Thus,  in  the  words,  man,  zvhite,  in- 
dication of  time  is  not  included  :    in  the  words, 

he 

■>    '      ■  ■  .  ■  ■ ■  ■  .   , 

■  See  Hermes,  p.  239,  Note  (a).  Here  are,  in  the 
original,  two  definitions ;  one  intelligible,  and  one  unin- 
telligible. I  believe  I  shall  easily  be  excused  for  giving 
the  reader  the  intelligible  definition  only.    See  the  noT£. 

*  Hermes,  p.  2 1 6,  &c. 

t  

'  The  name,  Theodorus,  is  derived  from  Thtos,  Q(^^^ 
and  Doron,  a  gift.    Yet  when  the  word  is  used,  it  stantls 
•  for  neither  of  these  ideas,  but  merelv  for  the  individual 
so  named. 

M  2 


164  Of  Tragedy.  [PART  If. 

he  walks,  he  walked,  &c.  it  is  included ;   the  one 
expressing  the  present  time,  the  other  the  pasL 

7.  Cases  belong  to  nouns  and  verbs.  Some 
cases  express  relation;  as  of,  to\  and  the  like: 
others,  number;  as  man,  or  men,  &c.  Others 
relate  to  action  or  pronunciation  ^ :  as  those  of 
interrogation,  of  command,  &c.  for,  {(icc^ia; 
[did  he  go ?]  and,  pa^*^f,  [^.^J  are  verbal  cases 
of  that  kind. 

8.  Discourse,  or  ^eccA,  is  a  sound  significant, 
composed  of  other  sounds,  some  of  which  are  sitmi- 
ficant  bj/  tjiemselves :  for  all  discourse  is  not  com- 
posed of  verbs  and  nouns;— the  definition  of  Man  ^, 

for 


*  These  on/y,  in  moc/ern  grammar,  arc  called  cases: 
in  Aristotle,  number,  whether  in  noun  or  verb,  and  die 
tenses,  and  modes,  (or  moods,)  of  verbs,  are  comprehended 
under  that  term  ;  because  cases^  (crr^ucTfij — casus)  arc 
endings,  terminations^  infections,  &c.  and,  in  the  learned 
languages,  all  the  above  mentioned  differences  of 
meaning  are  expressed  by  different  terminations.  The 
French  use  chute,  the  literal  translation  of  casus,  in  the 
sense  ofjermination.—'^  La  chute  d'une  periode,"  &c. 
And  fa/I  is  used,  in  our  poetical  language,  for  a  close,  or 
cadence,  in  music. 

That  strain  again — //  had  a  dying  fall. 

Merch.  of  Venice, 
And  so  Milton  in  Comus^  v.  251. 

*  These  modes,  are  the  same  which  he  calls /^«r^j  of 
speech,  Scot.  23.    See  the  note. 

*  The  definition  alluded  to  appears  to  be  this,  lite, 
rally  rendered :  «  A  Hi^restrial  animal  with  two  feet:* 
{lidiQv  ^fitw,  3i®«K.)    See  the  note. 


f  ART  II.]  Of  Tragedy,  165 

for  instance.  Discourse,  or  speech,  may  subsist 
without  a  verb :  some  significant  part,  however, 
it  must  contain ;  significant,  as  the  word  Ckon 
is,  in,  "  Cleon  xvalks.'' 

A  discourse  or  speech  is  one,  in  two  senses; 

either  as  it  signifies  one  thing,  or,  several  things 

ojiade  one  by  conjunction.    Thus,  the  Iliad  is  one 

by  conjunction :   the  definition  of  Man,  by  sigJii" 

fying  one  thing, 

XXV. 

Of  WORDS,  some  are  single — by  which  I  mean, 
composed  of  parts  not  significant;  and  some 
double :  of  which  last,  some  have  one  part  signi- 
ficant, and  the  other  not  significant ;  and  some, 
both  parts  significant.  A  w^ord  may  also  be 
triple,  quadruple,  &c.  like  many  of  those  used  by 
the  MegaUotcE;  as,  Hermocdicoxanthus"^ ,  Every 
word  is  either  common,  or  foreign,  or  metapho- 
rical, or  ornamental,  or  invented,  or  extended^  or 
contracted,  OT  altered^. 

By  COMMON  words,  I  mean,  such  as  are  in 
general  and  established  use, — By  foreign,  such 


t 


as 


'  A  strange  word,  and  how  it  was  applied  we  know 
not.  It  appears  to  be  a  consolidation  of  three  Asiatic 
rivers — the  Hermus,  the  Caicus,  and  the  Xanthus. 

*  See  the  last  paragraph  of  note  190  ;  an  obseiva- 
tion  of  importance  to  the  right  understanding  of  this 
enumeration. 

M  3 


DiflTerent 
of 

WOBfiS. 


! 


'*^  '  Of  Tragedy.  [PART  ii, 

as  belong  to  a  different  language :    so  that  the 

same  word  may,  evidently,  be  both  common,  and 

foreign,  though  not  to  the  same  people.     The 

word  Siyui^ov,  to  the  Cyprians  is  cwmmi,  to  us, 

foreign, 

A  METAPHORICAL  9  word  is  a  word  trans- 
ferred from  its  proper  sense ;  either  from  genus 
to  species,  or  from  species  to  genus,  or  from  one 
species  to  another,  or  in  the  way  of  analogy, 

1.  Trom  genus  to  species :  as, 

Secure  in  yonder  port  my  vessel  stands'. 
For,  to  be  at  anchor,  is  one  species  of  standing 
or  being  f  red  \ 

2.  From  species  to  genus :  as, 
'"'•••--to  Ulysses, 

A  thousand  generous  deeds  we  owe  -  -  ». 
For  a  thousand  is  a  certain  definite  many,  which 
is  here  used  for  many,  in  general. 

3t  From 


*  For  the  general  sense,  in  which  metaphorical  Is  here 
used,  see  the  beginning  of  note  183. 

"  From/f.;«.r,Od,  A.i85.~In  Pope's  translation, 
I-  237- 

"  Far  from  your  capital  my  ship  resides^* 
This  would  not  answer  my  purpose,  because  tlic  meta- 
phor is  changed. 

*  How  widely  different  is  the  metaphor,  when  wc 
talk  of  a  ship  riding  at  anchor! 

*  ^^-B.  272.-10  Pope,  II.  333.-«but  the  metaphor 
B  not  retained. 


FART  II.]  Of  Tragedy.  167 

3.  From  one  species  to  another^:  as, 

XaXxw  aV©  ij/u^iji'  APT2AS. 
And, 

TAM'  uTet^u  %aX)Cfii^. 

For  here,  the  Poet  uses  ri^ikm,  to  cut  off,  in- 
stead of  d^va-Ai,  to  draw  forth,  and  «f  u(r«»  instead 
of  TujAnv :  each  being  a  species  of  taking  away. 

4-  In  the  way  of  analogy — when,  of  four 
terms,  the  second  bears  the  same  relation  10  the 
frst,  as  the  fourth  to  the  third;  in  which  case, 
the  fourth  may  be  substituted  for  the  second, 
and  the  second  for  the  fourth.  And,  sometimes, 
the  proper  term  is  also  introduced,  besides  its 
relative  term. 

Thus,  a  cup  bears  the  same  relation  to  Bacchus, 
as  a  ^/iieW  to  Alars.  A  shield,  tlierefore,  may  be 
called  the  cup  of  Mars,  and  a  cup,  the  shield  of 
Bacchus.  Again — evening  being  to  day,  what 
old  age  is  to  life,  the  evening  may  be  called  the 
old  age  of  the  day^  and  old  age,  the  evening  of 
life ;  or,  as  Empedocles  has  expressed  it,  "  Life  s 
setting  sun^"  It  sometimes  hap{>ens,  that  there 
is  no  proper  analogous  term,  answering  to  the 

,       tenn 


♦  This,  and  the  next  species,  only,  answer  to  what 
we  call  metaphor — the  metaphor  founded  on  resemblance^ 
The  two  first  species  belong  to  the  trope  denominated, 
since  Aristotle's  time,  Synecdoche, 

*  "  Thy  sun  is  set,  thy  spring  is  gone.'* 

Gray— Ode  on  Spring, 

*'  Yet  bath  my  night  of  life  some  memory.'* 

^laUpenrcy  Com,  of  £rr«ri— *last  .sccn«» 

W4 


^#f 


l66  Of  Tragedy.  [PART  ii. 

as  belong  to  a  different  language :    so  that  the 
same  word  may,  evidently,  be  both  common^  and 
foreign^  though  not  to  the  same  people.     The 
word  Siyuyov,  to  the  Cyprians  is  cormtwny  to  us, 
foreign. 

A  metaphorical'  word  is  a  word  trans- 
ferred from  its  proper  sense ;   either  from  genus 
to  species,  or  from  species  to  genus,  or  from  07ie 
species  to  another,  or  in  the  way  of  analogy, 
1*  Trom  genus  to  species :  as, 
Secure  in  yonder  port  my  vessel  stands'. 
For,  to  be  at  anchor,  is  one  species  of  standing 
or  being j^Terf*. 

2.  From  species  to  genus :  as, 

--------to  Ulysses, 

A  thousand  generous  deeds  we  owe  -  -  '. 
For  a  thousand  is  a  certain  definite  many,  which 
is  here  used  for  many,  in  general, 

3.  From 

•  For  the  general  sense,  in  which  metaphorical  is  here 
used,  see  the  beginning  of  note  183. 

"  From  Homer,  Od.  A.  185. — In  Pope's  translation, 

*'  Far  from  your  capital  my  ship  resides,^* 
This  would  not  answer  my  purpose,  because  die  meta- 
phor is  changed. 

*  How  widely  different  is  the  metaphor,  when  wc 
talk  of  a  ship  riding  at  anchor ! 

'  //.B.  272.— In  Pope,  II.  333. — but  the  metaphor 
is  not  retained. 


fart  II.]  Of  Tragedy.  167 

3.  From  one  species  to  another*:  as, 

XaXKea  iiffQ  4^%^*'  APTSAE. 
And, 

TAM'  CCTBi^Bl^  Xot>.Ku. 

For  here,  the  Poet  uses  t*/ui«i^,  to  cut  off,  in- 
stead of  a^uo-ai,  to  draw  forth,  and  «f  ucai  instead 
of  TQciim :  each  being  a  species  of  taking  atvay. 

4.  In  the  way  of  analogy — when,  of  four 
terms,  the  seco7id  bears  the  same  relation  10  the 
fo^st,  as  the  fourth  to  the  third ;    in  which  case, 

the  fourth  may  be  substituted  for  the  second, 
and  the  second  for  the  fourth.  And,  sometimes, 
the  proper  term  is  also  introduced,  besides  its 

relative  term. 

Thus,  a  cup  l3ears  the  same  relation  to  Bacchus, 
as  a  shield  to  Mars.  A  shield,  therefore,  may  be 
called  the  cup  of  Mars,  and  a  cup,  the  shield  of 
Bacchus,  Again— evening  being  to  day,  what 
old  age  is  to  life,  the  evening  may  be  called  the 
old  age  of  the  day,  and  old  age,  the  evening  of 
life ;  or,  as  Eynpedocles  has  expressed  it,  "  Life  s 
setting  sun  ^"  It  sometimes  happens,  that  there 
is  no  proper  analogous  term,  answering  to  the 

tenn 


♦  This,  and  the  next  species,  only,  answer  to  what 
we  call  metaphor — the  metaphor  founded  on  resemblance. 
The  two  first  species  belong  to  the  trope  denominated, 
since  Aristotle's  time,  Synecdoche. 

»  «  Thy  sun  is  set,  thy  spring  is  gone.'* 

Gray — Ode  on  Spring. 

*'  Yet  hath  my  night  of  life  some  memory.** 

ihaUpefiYCy  Com.  of  £rr*ri—*last  .scene. 

M  4 


^    •? 


■*K«j:S'2^t* »: 


>j#^-^.  ^a&. 


^^8  Of  Tragedy,  [PART  ir, 

term  borrowed;  which  vet  may  be  used  in  the 
same  manner,  as  if  there  \v  ere.  For  instance : 
to  sorv,  is  the  term  appropriated  to  the  action  of 
dispersing  seed  upon  the  earth ;  but  the  disper- 
sion of  rays  from  the  sun  is  expressed  by  no 
appropriated  term ;  it  is,  however,  with  respect 
to  the  suns  light,  w hat  smving  is  with  respect 
to  seed.  Hence  the  Poets  expression,  of  the 
sun — 

"  -  -  -  SOWING  abroad 
**  His  heaven-created  flame." 
There  is,  also,  another  way  of  using  this  kind  of 
metaphor,  by  adding  to  the  borrowed  word  a 
negation  of  some  of  those  quahties,  which  belong 
to  it  in  its  proper  sense :  as  if,  instead  of  calling 
a  shield  the  cup  of  Mars,  we  should  call  it  the 
wineless  cup^. 

An  INVENTED  word,  is  a  word  never  before 
used  by  any  one,  but  coined  by  the  Poet  himsdf ; 
for  such,  it  appears,  there  are;  as  EPNTTAI^  for 
KEPATA,  horns,  or  APHTHPf  for  lEPEYX,  a 
priest, 

A  word  is  extended,  when  for  the  proper 
vowel  a  longer  is  substituted,  or  a  syllable  is  in- 
serted. 

*  For  the  ornamental  word,  or  the  ornament,  ixo<7fji&') 
as  Aristotle  calls  it,  the  definition  of  which  should  have 

,     come  in  here,  see  note  190. 

•  i.  e.  Branches ;  which  we  also  use  for  the  horns  of 
a  stag.  But  Aristotle  means  a  new  word^  not  a  new 
application  merely,  of  a  word  already  in  use. 

t  A  suppHcator :  literally,  a  prayer,  taken  iu  the  sense 
o(one  who  prays  ;  as  seer  is  used  for  prophet. 


FART  II.]  Of  Tragedy,  169 

serted. — A  word  is  contracted,  when  some  part 
of  it  is  retrenched. — Thus,  ttoAHi^,  for  7roXE®», 
and  IlrjxHia^fw  for  Ur.Xfioc^is,  are  extended  words : 
contracted,  such  as  KPI,  and  AH,  and  OY^:  e.  g. 

-     -     -    [jUx  ymToci  af/,(poTBouv  OT*. 

An  altered  word,  is  a  word,  of  which  part 
remains  in  its  usual  state,  and  part  is  of  the 
Poet  s  makino; :  as  in 

AEHITEPON  KccTOL  jt*a^oj/% 
JfJiTEPOS   is  for  ii^iOl, 

Farther ;  nouns  are  divided  into  masculine, 
feminine,  and  neuter.  The  masculine  are  those 
which  end  in  v,  ^,  ••,  or  in  some  letter  com- 
pounded of  (T  and  a  mute;  these  are  two,  ^ 
and  g. — The  feminine,  are  those  which  end  in 
the  vowels  always  long,  as  >?,  or  « ;  or,  in  «,  of 
the  doubtful  vowels :  so  that  the  mascuhne  and 
the  feminine  terminations  are  equal  in  number ; 
for  as  to  \J/  and  ?,  they  arc  the  same  with  termi- 
nations in  (T.  No  noun  ends  in  a  mute,  or  a 
short  vowel.  There  are  but  three  ending  in  « ; 
/xfX»,  xo/AjtAt,  TTisri^i :  five  ending  in  u :    ^wu,  i/aziru, 

yOVM,  $0^M,   Oi^M, 

'Y\\c  neuter  terminate  in  these  two  last-men- 
tioned vowels,  and  in  v  and  <r. 

XXVI.  The 


"*  K^i,  occurs  11.  E.  196. — Aw,  11,  A.  425. 
•  Part  of  a  verse  of  Empedoclcs,  quoted  by  Strabo, 
p.  364.  Ed,  Cas, 
»  A  E.  393. 


170 


Of  Tragedy. 


[part  II. 


XXVI. 

*  or  _  The  excellence  of  diction  consists  in  being  pet- 
Picim.  sficuous  without  being  mean.  The  most  perspi- 
cuous is  that  which  is  composed  of  cojnmon 
words ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  it  is  mean.  Such 
is  the  Poetry  of  Cleophon^  and  that  of  Sthenelus. 
That  language,  on  the  contrary,  is  elevated,  and 
remote  from  the  vulgar  idiom,  which  employi 
unusual  words :  by  timisual,  I  mean,  foreign^ 
metaphorical,  extended — all,  in  short,  that  are  not 
ctminwn  words.  Yet,  should  a  Poet  compose  his 
diction  aitircly  of  such  w  ords,  the  rcsult  would 
be,  either  an  eenigma,  or  a  barbarous  jargon  :  an 
«nigma,  if  composed  of  mctaphm^s ;  a  barbarous 
jargpn,  if  composed  of  foreign  words. — For  the 
essence  of  an  jenimna  consists  in  putthig  together 
fhhigs  apparently  inconsistent  and  impossibley 
mid,  at  the  same  time,  sai/ijig  nothing  but  what 
is  true.  Now  this  cannot  be  effected  by  the  mere 
erra7igcment '  of  the  words  ;  by  the  metaphorical 
use  of  them,  it  may  ;  as  in  this  enigma  : 
A  man  I  once  beheld,  [and  wondering  view'd,] 

"Who,  on  another,  brass  with  fire  had  glew'd*. 

With 


*  By  mere  arrangement  or  construction  of  words 
used  in  their  proper  senses,  you  may  produce  nonsense,  or 
ambiguity ;  but  not,  an  tnconshtcjit  and  impossible,  yet  clear y 
meaning, 

*  See  the  note.  The  operation  of  cupping  is  meant, 
which  the  Greeks  performed  with  an  insumncnt  of 
hrass^ 


PART  11.]  Of  Tragedy,  171 

With  respect  to  barbarism,  it  arises  from  the 
use  of  foreign  words.  A  judicious  intermixture 
is,  therefore,  requisite. . 

Thus,  the  foreign  word,  the  metaphorical,  the 
ornamental,  and  the  other  species  before  men- 
tioned, will  raise  the  language  above  the  vulgar 
idiom,  and  common  words  will  give  it  perspicuity. 
But  nothing  contributes  more  considerably  to  pro- 
duce clearness,  without  vulgarity,  of  diction,  than 
extensions,  contractions,  2inA  alt  citations,  of  words: 
for  here,  the  variation  from  the  proper  form, 
being  unusual,  will  give  elevation  to  the  expres- 
sion ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  what  is  retained  of 
usual  speech  will  give  it  clearness.  It  is  without 
reason,  therefore,  that  some  critics  have  censured 
these  modes  of  speech,  and  ridiculed  the  Poet  * 
for  the  use  of  them;  as  old  Euclid^  did,  ob- 
jecting, that  **  versification  would  be  an  easy 
"  business,  if  it  were  permitted  to  lengthen  words 
"  at  pleasure :" — and  then  giving  a  burlesque 
example  of  that  sort  of  diction  :  as,  • 

*         •         *         *        *        «         « 


#5 


Undoubtedly, 


*  Homer.  *  Not  the  Geometrician. 

»   [  have  omitted  the  examples — two  lines  of  incurable 
corruption ;    the  *'  confusion''  of  which  is  **  worse  con- 
founded'* by  an  endless  variety  of  various  readings,  which, 
after  all,  are  only  so  many  different  shades  of  nonsense. 
Seethe  note. 


172  Of  Tragedy.  [part  It^ 

Undoubtedly,  vvhen  these  licences  appear  to 
be  thus  purymdy  used,  the  thing  becomes  ridi- 
culous. In  the  employment  of  all  tlie  species 
of  unumal  words,  moderation  is  necessary  :  for 
metaphors,  foreign  words,  or  any  of  the  others, 
improperly  used,  and  with  a  design  to  be  ridi- 
culous^ would  produce  the  same  effect.  But 
how  great  a  difference  is  made  by  a  proper 
and  temperate  use  of  such  words,  may  be  seen 
in  heroic  verse.  Let  any  one  only  substitute 
Common  words  in  the  place  of  the  metaphorical, 
the  foreign,  and  others  of  the  same  kind,  and 
he  will  be  convinced  of  the  truth  of  what  I  say. 
For  example :  the  same  Iambic  verse  occurs 
in  JEschylus  and  in  Euripides ;  but,  by  means 
of  a  sinnjle  alteration — the  substitution  of  a 
foreign,  for  a.  common  and  usual  word,  one 
of  these  verses  appears  beautiful,  the  other 
ordinary.  For  JEschj/lus,  in  liis  Fhiloctel€s\ 
says    -     -     - 

The  cankerous  wound  that  eats  my  flesh. 


But  Euripides,   instead  of  £(rOi«   [eats^   uses 
eOINATAI. 

The  same  difference  will  appear,  if,  in  this 
verse, 

Ni»y 
- ■  ■ .  I  .  I        ■ . ,.    ■         . .    .      ,1        I         , 

•  We  hive  neither  of  the  Tragedies  liere  alluded  to. 


f  ART  II.]  Of  Tragedy,  173 

Nui/  h  fjC  Bcov  OAirOL  Tg  Kui  OYTIAANOS 
xa/ AKIKYX% 

we  substitute  common  words,  and  say, 

Ni;y  ^6  in!  im  MIKPOS  t6  xa/ASGENIKOS 
%oLi  AEIAHS. 

So,  again,  should  we  for  the  following, — 

AiCpfoi/  AEIKEAION  xaraflgi^,  OAIPHN  t« 
Tfa-ars^ay— • 
substitute  this : — 

A<(pfoi/  MOX0HPON  xuTuQeig^  MIK-PAN  ts 

Or,  change— HTokK  BOOnSIN^— The  cliffs  re- 
bellffw—io  Hloyii  KPAZ0T2IN— The  clifft  re- 
sound. 

j4riphrades,a\sOy  endeavoured  to  throw  ridicule 
upon  the  Tragic  Poets,  for  making  use  of  such 
expressions  as  no  one  would  think  of  using  in 
common  speech;  as,  ^w/AarwK  olzro^  instead  of 
d-BTo  ^ufxxruv:  and  2E0EN — and,  lyu  $b  NIN — 
^nd,  A;^iAAfw5  7r£^»,  instead  of  tti^*  Ap^iXXfw?,  &c. 

Now 

^ — . —  " 

^  Odyssey  IX.  v.  515.  of  the  crignal.  It  is  obvious 
that  these  differences  cannot  be  preserved  in  a  trans- 
lation. 

«  Od.  T.  259. 

•  //.  P.  265. — Pope's  line  is, 

♦*  And  distant  rocks  rebellow  to  tlie  roar." 

XVil,  315. 


.  / 


w. 


■a|^ 


-A 


174  Of  Tragedy,  [part  ii. 

Now  it  is  precisely  owing  to  their  being  not  in 
common  use,  that  such  expressions  have  the  effect 
of  giving  elevation  to  the  diction.  But  this  he 
did  not  know  *. 

To  employ  with  propriety  any  of  these  modes 
of  speech — the  double  words,  the  foreign,  &c. — is 
a  great  excellence :  but  the  greatest  of  all,  is  to 
be  happy  in  the  use  of  metaphar ;  for  it  is  this 
alone  which  cannot  be  acquired,  and  which,  con- 
sisting in  a  quick  discernment  of  resemblances,  is 
a  certain  mark  of  genius*. 

Of 


*  Aristode's  thorough  contempt  of  the  critic,  and  his 
criticism,  could  not  have  been  more  strongly  marked  than 

^'^s  short  and  simple  expression.  [ — eusiv^  ^i  juro 
vyyoft !] 

*  Metaphors  are,  cvidendy,  much  more  important, 
and  more  of  the  essence  of  Poetry,  than  the  other  sorts  of 
words.  It  is  very  easy,  and  very  commonly  practised  by 
Poets  of  no  genius  or  originality,  to  copy  the  technical 
language,  iht  formula,  as  it  were,  of  Poetry — compound 
epithets,  obsolete  words,  &c.  These  occur  but  now  and 
then:  metaphorical  expression  is  continually  wante^ 
and  the  beauty,  force,  and  novelty  of  it,  depend  on  the 
writer's  own  imagination.  Indeed,  almost  all  the  beauty 
of  Poetry,  as  far  as  language  is  concerned,  all  that  dis- 
tinguishes the  Poet  of  genius,  from  the  versifier  who 
trusts  solely  to  his  ear,  and  to  his  memory,  arises  from 
the  uncommon  and  original  use  of  metaphor ;  especially, 
taking  that  word  in  Aristotle's  latitude,  as  comprehending 
all  tropical  expression.  Here,  however,  he  plainly  has 
cur  metaphor  chiefly  in  view  ; — the  metaphor  founded 
on  resemblance.  ^ 


I 


^ART  11;]  Of  Tragedy,  175 

Of  the  different  kinds  of  words,  the  double  are 
best  suited  to  Dithyrambic  Poetry ;  the  foreign 
to  Heroic;  the  inetaphoiical  to  Iambic.  la 
Heroic  Poetry,  indeed,  they  have  <ill  tlieir  place; 
but  to  Iambic  verse',  which  is,  as  much  as  naay 
be,  an  imitation  of  common  speech  *,  those  words 
which  are  used  in  common  speech  are  best 
adapted ;  and  such  are,  the  com?non,  tiie  meta" 
phoricalf  and  the  ornainentaL 

Concerning  Tragedy,  and  the  imitation  bj 
ACTION,  enough  has  now  been  said. 

*  The  verse  of  Tragedy,    See  the  NOTZ. 

*  S€C  above — Part  I.  Sect.  7. 


[    176    ] 


In  what 

Epic 

and 

Tragic 
Poetry 
•grec 


PART    III. 

OF   THE    EPIC    POEM. 

I 

I. 

WITH  respect  to  that  species  of  Poetry 
which  imitates  by  xauration,  and  in 
hexameter  verse,  it  is  obvious,  that  the  fable 
ought  to  be  dramatically  constructed  \  like  that 
of  Tragedy:  and  that  it  should  have  for  its 
subject  one  entire  and  perfect  action^  having  a 
beginning,  a  middle,  and  an  end;  so  that,  form- 
ing, like  an  animal,  a  complete  whole,  it  may 
2iffoYd  its  proper"-  pleasure:  widely  differing,  in 
its  construction,  from  history,  which  necessarily 
treats,  not  of  one  action,  but  of  one  time ;  and  of 
all  the  events  that  happened,  to  one  person,  or  to 
many,  during  that  time ;  events,  the  relation  of 
which,  to  each  other,  is  merely  casual  \  For,  as 
the  naval  action  at  Salamis,  and  the  battle  with 

the 


•  See  below,  Sect.  3. 

*  i.e.  Opposed,  (as  appears  from  what  follows,)  to 
that  which  history  gives.  Unity  of  interest  is  essential  to 
the  pleasure  we  expect  from  the  Epic  Poem  ;  aiitl  this 
camiot  exist,  at  least,  in  the  degree  required,  without 
unity  of  action, 

»  Compare,  Part  II.  S^ct.  5,  7,  and  8. 


PART  III.]  0/ the  Epic  Pom,  I77 

the  Carthaginians  in  Sicily,  were  events  of  the 
same   time,    unconnected    by  any  relation    to  a 
common  end,  or  purpose;    so  also,  in  successive 
events,  we  sometimes  see  one  \\\\ngfolloxv  another, 
without  being  connected  to  it  by  such  relation. 
And  this   is  the  practice   of  the  generality  of 
Poets,      Even  in   this,   therefore,   as   we  have 
before  observed*,  the  superiority -of  Homers 
genius  is  apparent,  that  he  did  not  attempt  to 
brintT  the  xchole  war,  thoudi  an  e;/^/re  action  with 
beginning  and  end,  into  his  Poem.    It  would  have 
been  too  vast  an  object,  and  not  easily  cowpre- 
henckd  in  one  xiew^ :   or  had  he  forced  it  into  a 
moderate  compass,  it  would  have  been  perplexed 
by  its  variety^.  Instead  of  this,  selecting  onQ part 
only  of  the  war,  he  has,  from  the  rest,  introduced 
many  Episodes — such  as  the   catalogue  of  the 
ships,  and  others — by  which  he  has  diversified 
his  Poem.     Other  Poets  take  for  their  subject 
the  actions  of  one  person^,    or  of  one   period 

of 


-     *  Part  II.  5tf/.  5.  *  See  Part  IL  Scct.^. 

*  Because  "  t/ie  length  of  the  whole  woultP*  then  "  not 
'*  admit  of  a  proper  magnitude  in  the  parts  ;^*  and,  thus, 
an  Epic  Poem  constructed  upon  an  historical  pbn,  would 
be  exactly  in  die  same  case  with  a  Tragedy  "  con- 
structed on  an  Epic  plan,^^  See  Part  II.  Sect.  20.  and 
NOTE  153.  '' 

»  Part  II.  ^cct,  5. 

VOL.  I.  y 


1^8  Of  the  Epic  Poem,  [part  IIU 

of  timely  or  an  action  which,  though  o?ie,  is 
composed  of  too  many  parts.  Thus,  the  author 
of  the  Cypriacs,  and  of  the  Little  Iliad '.  Hence 
it  is,  that  tiie  Iliad,  and  the  Odyssey,  each 
of  them,  furnish  matter  for  one  Tragedy,  or  two, 
at  most ;  but  from  the  Cijpriacs  many  may  be 
taken,  and  from  the  Little  Iliad,  more  than 
eight;     as,   The    Contest   for    the    Armour \ 

rhiloctetes, 


^  Of  this  kind  seems  tlie  Poem  of  Arlosto^  tliC  cxor- 
dium  of  which,  not  only  expresses  the  niiscelianeous 
variety  cT  his  matter,  but,  also,  his  principle  of  unity, 

Le  Donne,  i  cavalier,  I'arme,  gli  amori, 
Le  cortesie,  I'audaci  imprese,  io  canto, 
Chefuro  al  tempo  che  passaro  i  Mori,  &c. 

Ariosto%  expedient  was,  to  "  intertwist  tlie  several  actions 
<*  together,  in  order  to  give  something  like  tlie  appear- 
"  ance  of  one  action,**  to  the  whole,  as  has  been  ob- 
served q{ Spenser :  [Letters  on  Chivalry,  &c.]  he  has  given 
his  Poem  the  continuity  of  basket-work.  Or,  if  I  may 
be  indulged  in  another  comparison,  his  unity,  is  the 
unity  produced  between  oil  and  vinegar  by  shaking  them 
toorether;  which  only  makes  them  separate  %y  smaller 
portions. 

^  So  called,  to  distinguish  it  from  the  L'iad  of  Homer, 
of  which  it  seems  to  llave  been  a  continuation.     See  the 

KOTE. 

'  i.  e.  Between  Ajax  and  Ulysses.    JEsehylus  wrote  a 
.    Tragedy  on  this  subject,  of  which  the  Ajax  of  Sophocles 
is  the  sequel. — Dacier, 


I 


PART  III.]  Of  the  Epic  Poem.  lyc^ 

Phikctctefi^,  Neoptole?nus,  Euryp7/lus\  The 
Va<^raNt\  'The  Spartan  JFomen,  The  Fall  of 
Troy,  The  Return  of  the  Fleet  ^,  Sinon  ^,  and 
The  Trojan  JFomcn  ^. 

Again — the  Epic  Poem  must  also  agree  with 
the  Tragic,  as  to  its  kinds:  it  must  be  simple,  or 
complicated,  iiwral,  or  disastrous^.  Its  parts^ 
also,  setting  aside  Music  and  Decoration,  are  the 
same  ^ ;  for  it  requires  Revolutions,  Discoveries^ 
and  Disasters ;  and  it  must  be  furnished  with 
proper  sentiments  and  diction :  of  all  which 
IloMFE  gave  both  the  first,  and  the  most  perfect, 
exdu.ple.  Tiius,  of  his  two  Poems,  the  Lliad  is 
ot  the  simple  and  disastrous  kind  ;  the  Odyssey y 
complicated,  (for  it  abounds  throughout  with  dis- 
coveries,) 


'  The  Philoctetes  of  Sophocles  only  remains. 

^  Of  the  subject  of  this,  and  the  preceding  drama,  we 
know  nothing. 

*  See  Pope's  Odyssey,  IV.  335.  but  what  Is  there 
rendered  slave,  is,  in  Homer,  btjgar,  or  vagrant.  The 
story  is  also  touched  by  Euripides,  in  his  Hecuba,  See 
Patterns  Transl.  v.  2 10,  &:c. 

*  See  the  latter  p^rt  of  note  116. 

*  The  story  is  well  known  from  Virgil,  ^n,  2. — 
Sophocles  wrote  a  Tragedy  of  this  title. 

'  A  Tragedy  of  this  name  by  Euripides  is  extant. 
See  The  Trojan  Dames,  in  Mr.  Potter's  translation. 

»  See  Part  II.  Sect.  19.  ^  P^rt  I.  Sect,  9. 

N  2 


In  what 
they 

DIFFER. 


180  Of  the  Epic  Poem.  [PART  III. 

coveries*,)  and  moral.  Add  to  this,  that  in 
language  and  sentiments  he  has  surpassed  all 
Poets.  ' 

II. 

The  Epic  Poem  differs  from  Tragedy,  in  the 
length  of  its  plan,  and  in  its  metre. 

With  respect  to  lengthy  a  sufficient  measure 
has  already  been  assigned  *.    It  should  be  such, 
as  to  admit  of  our  comprehending  at  ojie  view  the 
bes[inninf^  and  the  end:    and  this  would  be  the 
case,  if  the  Epic  Poem  were  reduced  from  its 
ancient  lensth,  so  as  not  to  exceed  that  of  such 
a  number  of  Tragedies,  as  are  performed  suc- 
cessively at  one  hearing '.    But  there  is  a  circum- 
stance in  the  nature  of  Epic  Poetry  which  affords 
it  peculiar  latitude  in  the  extension  of  its  plan. 
It  is  not  in  the  power  of  Tragedy  to   imitate 
several  different  actions  performed  at  the  same 
time;  it  can  imitate  only  that  one  which  occupies 
the  stage,  and  in  which  the  actors  are  employed. 

But, 

*  See  Pope's  translation,  XVI.  206,  &c.  wlierc 
Ulysses  discovers  himself  to  Telemachus  :  XXI.  212, 
to  the  shepherds. — XXIII.  211.  to  Penelope. — XXIV. 
375.  to  his  father. — IX.  17.  to  Alcinous. — IV.  150,  &c. 
Telemachus  is  discovered  to  Menelaus  by  his  tears: 
V.  189,  to  Helen,  by  his  resemblance  to  his  father. — 
XIX.  545.  Ulysses  is  discovered  to  the  old  nurse,  by 
the  scar.  ^ 

*  Seethe  preceding  Sect.  SLndPari  II.  Scct.^, 
'  In  the  dramatic  contests.    See  the  note. 


PART  III.]  0/  the  Epic  Poem,  181 

But,  the  Epic  imitation,  being  narrative^  admits 
of  many  such  simultaneous  incidents,  properly 
related  to  the,  subject,  which  swell  the  Poem  to  a 
considerable  size. 

And  this  gives  it  a  great  advantage,  both  in 
point  of  magnificence,  and,  also,  as  it  enables  the 
Poet  to  relieve  his  hearer*,  and  diversify  his 
work,  by  a  variety  of  dissimilar  Episodes  :  for  it 
is  to  the  satiety  naturally  arising  from  similarity 
that  Tragedies  frequently  owe  their  ill  success. 

With  respect  to  metre,  the  heroic  is  established 
by  experience  as  the  most  proper;  so  that,  should 
any  one  compose  a  narrative  Poem  in  any  other, 
or  in  a  variety  of  metres,  he  would  be  thought 
guilty  of  a  great  impropriety.  For  the  heroic  is 
the  gravest  and  most  majestic  of  all  measures ; 
and  hence  it  is,  that  it  peculiarly  admits  the  use 
oi foreign  and  metaphorical  expressions ;  for  in 
this  respect  also,  the  narrative  imitation  is 
abundant  and  various  beyond  the  rest.  But  the 
Iambic  and  Trochaic  have  more  motion  \  the 
latter  being  adapted  to  dance,  the  other  to  action 
and  business.  To  mix  these  different  metres,  as 
Chceremon  has  done,  w  ould  be  still  more  absurd. 
No  one,  therefore,  has  ever  attempted  to  com- 
pose a  Poem  of  an  extended  plan  in  any  other 
than  heroic  verse;  nature  itself,  as  we  before 
observed  ^  pointing  out  the  proper  choice. 

*  "  Hearer.*' — Sec  Dissert,  I,  p,  64,  65. 
»  Part  1.  Sect,  7. 

N3 


l82  Of  the  Epic  Poem, 


[part  III. 


III. 

tpic  Amoncr  the  many  just  claims  of  Homer  to 

KarriiliflJi  r>  J    ^ 

should  be   our  praise,  this  is  one — that  he  b  the  only  Poiet 

DRAMATIC  ^ 


IMITATIVE 


and  vvho  seems  to  have  understood  what  part  in  his 
Poem  it  was  proper  for  him  to  take  himself.  The 
Poet,  in  his  own  person,  should  speak  as  little  as 
possible;  for  he  is  not  then  the  imitator^.  But 
other  Poets,  ambitious  to  tit^nre  throughout,  them- 
selves^, imitate  but  little,  and  seldom.  Homer, 
after  a  few  preparatory  lines,  immediately  in- 
troduces a  man,  a  woman,  or  some  other  cha- 
racter* ;  for  all  have  their  character — no  where 
are  the  manners  nejilectcd. 


IV. 

^/"■<^  The  surprising  is  necessary  in  Tragedy  f ;  but 

woNDrRFi'L  thc  Eplc  Pocm  goes  farther,  and  admits  even  the 

more  easily  •  •    i       i       i  •    i 

and       improbable  and  incredible,  from  which  the  highest 

in  a  grcaier 

dr^rieihuu  degree  of  the  surprising  results,  because,  there, 
"  ^  the 


*  Strictly  speitking.    See  Dissertation  1.^.37. 

'  This  is  remarkably  the  case  with  Lucan;  of  whom 
Hobbes  says,  that  "  no  Heroic  Poem  raises  such  ad- 
*'  miration  of  t/ie  Poet,  as  liis  haih  clone,  though  not  so 
*'  great  admiration  of  the  persons  he  introdueeth^^^ 
[Disc,  concerning  the  Virtues  of  an  Heroic  Poem.^ 

*  As,  gods,  goddesses,  allegorical  beings,  &c, 
t  See  above,  Part  II,  Sect,  7.  p,  129,  130. 


PART  in.]  Of  the  Epic  Poem.  183 

the  action  is  not  *seen*.  The  circumstances,  for 
example,  of  the  pursuit  of  Hector  by  Achilles, 
are  such,  as,  upon  the  stage,  would  appear  ridi- 
culous;— the  Grecian  army  standing  still,  and 
taking  no  part  in  the  pursuit,  and  Achilles 
making  sitrns  to  them,  bv  the  motion  of  his  head, 
not  to  interfere'.  But  in  the  Epic  Poem  this 
escapes  our  notice.  Now  the  wonderful  always 
pleases ;  as  is  evident  from  the  additions  which 
men  always  make  in  relating  any  thing,  in  order 
to  gratify  the  hearers. 


V. 

It  is   from    Homer    principally,   that    other   ,^'"„'^jg 
Poets  have  learned  the  art  of  feigning  well.     It  ^^  p^^,V'»* 

^     o        o  train, 

consists 

♦  The  best  comment  to  which  [  can  refer  the  reader 
upon  all  this  part  of  Aristotle,  is  to  be  found  in  the  loth 
of  the  Letters  on  Chivalry  and  Romance,  in  which  the 
Italian  Poets,  and  the  privileges  of  genuine  Poetry,  are 
vindicated,  with  as  much  solidity  as  elegance,  against 
those,  whom  Drydcn  used  to  call  his  **  Prose  Critics'"^ — 
against  that  sort  of  criticism  **  which  looks  like  philosophy^ 
and  is  not,''* — Dr,  Hurd^s  Dialogues,  ^c.  vol.  iii. 

»  Pope's  Iliad,  XXIL  267.— Perhaps,  the  idea  of 
stopping  a  whole  army  by  a  nod,  or  shake  of  the  head, 
(a  circumstance  distincdy  mentioned  by  Homer,  but 
sunk  in  Mr.  Pope's  version,)  was  the  absurdity  here 
principally  meant.  If  diis  whole  Homeric  scene  were 
represented  on  our  stage,  in  the  best  manner  possible^  , 
there  can  be  no  doubt,  that  the  etfect  would  justify 
Aristode's  observation.  It  would  certainly  set  the 
audience  in  a  roar. 

N  4 


1^4  Of  the  Epic  Poem,  [part  iir, 

consists  in  a  sort  of  sophism.  When  one  thing  is 
observed  to  be  constantly  accompanied,  or  fol- 
lowed, by  another,  men  are  apt  to  conclude,  that, 
if  the  latter  is,  or  has  happened,  the  former  must 
also  be,  or  must  have  happened.  But  th'^s  is  an 
error.      *     *     *****      p^^p^  knowing 

the  latter  to  be  true,  the  mind  is  betrayed  into 
the  false  inference,  that  the  first  is  true  also*. 


VI. 

iMp^oBAFLE       ^^^  ^^^^  should  prefer  iwpossl  bill  tics'-  which 
,  ^'"*       appear    probable,    to   such    things   as,    thonah 

ABSURD.  I  I  r  f  O  ?  ."D 

possible  J  appear  improbable.    Far  from  producing 

a  plan 


*  For  an  attempt  to  explain  Aristotle's  meaning  in  this 
difficult  passage,  which,  I  think,  has  not  hitherto  been 
understood,  I  must  refer  the  reader  to  the  note. 

*  This  includes  all  that  is  called  faery,  machinery, 
ghosts,  witches,  enchantments,  &c — tilings,  according  to 
Hobbcs,  "  beyond  the  actual  bounds,  and  only  wiihin  the 
«*  concewed  possibility  of  nature."  [See  the  Litters  on 
Chivalry,  as  aboveC]  Such  a  being  as  Caliban,  for  ex- 
ample, is  impossible,  ^  Yet  Shakspeare  has  made  the 
character  appear  probable  \  not  certainly,  to  reason^  but  to 
imagination:  that  is,  vje  make  no  difficulty  about  the 
possibility  of  it,  in  reading.  Is  not  the  Lovelace  of 
Richardson,  in  this  view,  more  out  of  nature,  more  im- 
probable, than  the  Caliban  of  Shakspeare  ?  The  latter  is, 
at  least,  consistent  I  can  imagine  such  a  monster 
as  Caliban :  1  never  could  imagine  such  a  man  as 
Lovelace. 


PART  III.]  Of  the  Epic  Poem,  ig^ 

a  plan'  made  up  of  improbable  incidents,  he 
should,  if  possible,  admit  no  one  circumstance 
of  that  kind  ;  or,  if  he  does,  it  should  be  exterior 
to  the  action  itself  ^  like  the  ignorance  oi  Oedipus 
concerning  the  manner  in  w  hich  Laius  died ;  not 
xtithin  the  /drama,  like  the  narrative  of  what 
happened  at  the  Pythian  games,  in  the  Electra^; 
or,  in  The  Mysiiins,  the  man  who  travels  from 
Tegea  to  Aiysia  without  speaking^.    To  say,  that 

without 

^  The  general  plan,  story^  or  argument,  as  Part  IT. 
Sect,  17.  including  events  ^r/or  to  the  action,  but  neces- 
sary to  be  known. 

♦  See  the  beginning  of  the  Oedipus  of  Sophocles. 
Though  tlie  ignorance  of  Oedipus  appears  in  the  drama 
itself,  yet  the  circumstances,  upon  which  the  improbability 
of  that  Ignorance  depends  (his  coming  to  Thebes,  marrying 
Jocasta,  aiid  living  with  her  twenty  years.)  are  exterior  to 
the  drama:  i.  e.  prior  to  the  opening  of  the  action.  See 
above,  Part  II.  Sect.  15. 

'  See  Brumcyy  Th.  dcs  Grecs,  I.  p.  428.  I  believe  he 
is  right  in  understanding  the  absurdity  here  meant  to 
be — **  d'avoir  fait  raconter  comme  inconnue,  une  chose 
"  dont  Clytemnestre  auroit  pu  sgavoir  d'ailleurs  la  verite 
**  ou  la  faussete,  surtout  s'agissant  diOreste  qu'elle  craig- 
**  noit." — The  games  in  question  were  probably  fre- 
quented by  all  Greece,  and  whatever  happened  at  them, 
must  have  been  matter  of  such  public  notoriety,  that  a 
fraudulent  account  would  have  been  liable  to  immediate 
detection. 

^  Respecting  this  Tragedy,  see  Remark  30. 


X86  Of  the  Epic  Poem,  [part  III, 

without  these  circumstances  the  fable  would  have 
been  destroyed,  is  a  ridiculous  excuse:  the  Poet 
should  take  care,  from  the  first,  not  to  construct 
his  fable  in  that  manner.  If,  liowever,  any  thing 
of  this  kind  has  been  admitted,  and  yet  is  made 
to  pass  under  some  colour  of  probability,  it  may 
be  allowed,  though  even,  in  itself,  absurd.  Thus 
in  the  Odyssey'^ y  the  improbable  account  of  the 
manner  in  which  Ulysses  was  landed  upon  the 
shore  of  Ithaca,  is  such,  as  in  the  hands  of  an 
ordinary  Poet,  would  evidently  have  been  into- 
lerable :  but  here,  the  absurdity  is  concealed 
under  the  various  beauties,  of  other  kinds,  with 
which  the  Poet  has  embellished  it. 

The  Diction  should  be  most  laboured  in  the 
idle  parts*  of  the  Poem — those,  in  which  neither 

manners, 

^  See  Pope's  7rfl«j/.  XIII.  138,  and  the  wo/V  there,  and 
on  V.  142.  Homer  seems,  clearly,  to  have  imagined  this 
circumstance,  for  the  sake  of  the  interesting  scene  which 
follows  when  Ulysses  wakes.  See  v.  220,  6cc.  Of  the 
original,  v.  187. 

*  In  the  strictly  narrative  or  descriptive  parts,  where  the 
P§et  speaks  in  his  own  person,  and  the  imitatitriy  the 
drama,  which  Aristotle  considers  as  the  true  business  of 
Poetry,  is  suspended.  These  he  calls  the /W/^/«r/j.  The 
expression  is  applicable  also  to  Tragedy ;  for  though  its 
imitation  is  throughout,  yet  every  drama  must  have  its 
comparatively  idle  parts.  Such  is  the  descripiion  above 
alluded  to,  of  the  chariot-race,  ir^the  £/^f/r«  of  Sophocles. 
The  chorusses   also  may,   in   a  great  measure  be  so 

considered; 


PART  III.]  Of  the  Epic  Focm.  187 

manners,  nor  sentiments'^  prevail ;  for  the  manners 
and  the  sentiments  are  otily  obscured  by  too 
splendid  a  diction  \ 

considered  ;  and  in  them,  accordingly,  the  language  is 
**  laboured  *'  and  "  splendid^ — In  Epic  Poetry,  these 
parts  arc  of  great  i  nportance  to  that  variety  which 
characterizes  the  species.  [See  above,  ScctAl.^  In  so 
long  a  work,  relief  is  wanted,  and  we  arc  glad  to  hear 
the  Poet  in  his  turn. 

^  The  reader  mav  wonder  that  Aristotle  did  not  add — . 
**  nor  passion^  But  that  part  of  the  Epic  and  Tragic 
Poem,  which  he  calls  the  sentiments ^\nQ\\i(\ts  the  expression 
of  passion.  See  Part  il.  Sect. 22,  And  the  note  here. 

*  *'  His  diction  [  Thomson^']  is  in  the  highest  degree 
*'  floiiil  and  luxuriant ;  such  as  may  be  said  to  be  to  his 
*'  images  and  thoughts  both  their  lustre  and  their  shade ; 
**  such  ^*s  invests  them  with  splendour,  through  which 
'*  perhaps  they  are  not  always  easily  discerned.*' — 
Dr,  jfolmson's  Life  of  Thomson, 


I 


I 


[    i88    ] 


#■ 


PART    IV. 

) 

OF   CRITICAL   OBJECTIONS, 

AND  THE    PRINCIPLES    ON  WHICH    THEY 

ARE    TO    BE   ANSWERED. 


on 


W 


I. 


is  to  be 


BErENDED.  and  nature  of  the  different  sources,  from  which 
they  may  be  drawn,  will  be  clearly  understood, 
,     if  we  consider  them  in  the  following  manner. 

1.  The 


*  The  original  is,  Problems,  This  appears  to  have 
been  a  common  title  of  critical  works  in  Aristode's  trnie. 
Objections,  censures,  and  the  most  unreasonable  cavils, 
were  conveyed  in  the  civil  (orm  of  proh/ems  and  questions. 
Thus,  many  criticisms  on  Homer  were  published  under 
the  tide  of  Homeric  Problems. 

The  scope  of  this  part  of  Aristotle's  work  is  of  more 
importance  to  liis  subject  than,  at  first  view,  it  may 
appear  to  be.  In  teaching  how  to  answer  criticisms,  it, 
in  fact,  teaches,  (as  far,  I  mean,  as  it  goes,)  what  the 
Poet  should  do  to  avoid  giving  occasion  to  them.  It 
seems,  indeed,  intended  as  an  apology  for  Poetry,  and  a 
vindication  of  its  privileges  upon  true  poetical  principles, 
at  a  time  when  the  art  and  its  professors  were  unfairly 
attacked  on  all  sides,  by  the  cavils  o( prosaic  pliilosophers 
and  sophists,  such  as  Ariphradcs^  Protagoras j  Euclid,  &c. 
and  by  the  puritanical  objections  of  Plato  and  his 
followers. 


\ 


PART  IV.]  Of  Critical  Objections,  b^c.  igg 

1 .  The  Poet,  being  an  imitator^  like  the  painter 
or  any  other  artist  of  that  kind,  must  necessarily, 
when  he  imitates,  have  in  view  one  of  these  three 
objects  ; — he  must  represent  things,  such  as  they 
were,  or  ^rc*;— or  such  as  they  are  said  to  be,  and 
believed  to  be\ — or,  such  as  they  should  be^. 

2.  Again :  all  this  he  is  to  express  in  xeords^ 
either  common,  or  Joreign  and  metaphorical — or 
varied  by  some  of  those  many  modifications  and 
peculiarities  of  language,  u  hich  are  the  privilc-ye 
of  Poets. 

3.  To  this  we  must  add,  that  zvhat  is  right  in 
the  Poetic  art,  is  a  distinct  consideration  froS^ 
what  is  right  in  the  political,  or  any  other  art. 
The  faults  of  Poetry  are  of  two  kinds,  essential 
and  accidental.  If  the  Poet  has  undertaken  to 
imitate  without  talents  for  imitation,  his  Poetry 
will  be  essentially  faulty.  But  if  he  is  right  in 
applying  himself  to  Poetic  imitation,  yet  in  imi- 
tating is  occasionally  wrong ;  as,  if  a  horse,  for 
exai%le,  were  represented  moving  both  his  right 
legs  at  once  ; — or,  if  he  has  pommitted  mistakes^ 
or  described  things  impossible^  with  respect  to 

other 


*  Qom^iiTt  Par t\.  Sect.  1* 

'  This  opens  the  door  for  the  marvellous;  machinery, 
ghosts,  wiiches,  faery,  &c. 

♦  Compare  Part  I.  Sect,  3. — II.  end  of  Sect.  15.  and 
below,  Sect.  5. 


190  Of  Critical  Objections^  &c*        [PART  iv. 

Other  artSy  that  of  Physic,  for  instance',  or  any 
other — all  such  faults,  what  vcr  the)  may  be,  are 
not  essential  J  but  accidental  taults,  in  the  Poetry. 

II. 

ArrLicA-       'Pq  ^\^q  foreiroins  considerations,  then,  wc  must 
of  Uie     j^ave  recourse,  in  order  to  obviate  the  doubts  and 

last  ' 

Principle,   objcctions  of  the  critics. 

For,  in  the  Jirst  place,  suppose  the  Poet  to 
have  represented  things  impomble  with  respect 
to  some  other  art.  Thi^s  is  certainly  a  fault.  Yet 
it  may  be  an  e.vcusaKe  fault,  provided  the  end  of 

t  Poet's  art  be  more  effectually  obtained  by  it; 
t  is,  according  to  what  has  already  been  said 
of  that  aul,  if,  by  this  means,  that,  or  any  other 
part,  of  the  Poem,  is  made  to  produce  a  more 
striking  effect  \  The  pursuit  of  Hector  is  an 
instance ^  If,  indeed,  this  end  might  as  well,  or 
nearly  as  well,  have  been  attained,  without  de- 
parting from  the  principles  of  the  particular  art 
in  question,  the  fault,  in  that  case,  could  not  be 
justified ;  since  faults  of  every  kind  shoura,  if 
possible,  be  avoided. 

Still  we  are  to  consider,  farther,  whether  a  fault 
be  in  thinr^s  essential  to  the  Poetic  art,  or  foreitrn 

and 

^  Which  is  exactly  die  case  with  Homer's  im{>robable 
account  of  the  landing  of  Ulysses,  mentioned  above, 
PartlW.  Sect. 6.  See  Note  7, 

•  Partlll.Sect.^, 


PART  I  v.]         Of  Critical  Objections^  t^c^  191 

and  incidental  to  it :  for  it  is  a  far  more  pardon-^ 
able  fault  to  be  ignorant,  for  instance,  that  a  hind 
has  no  horns'",  than  to  paint  one  badly, 

III. 

Farther  :  If  it  be  objected  to  the  Poet,  that  he  Applica- 

1  11*  r  «  HON 

has  not  represented  thmgs  conformably  to  truth  ,     of  ihe 
he  may  answer,  that  he  has  represented  them  as   Pi^ndpk. 
they  should  be.    This  was  the  answer  of  Sophocles 
— that  "  he  drew^  mankind  such  as  they  shoidd 
"  be ;  Euripides,  such  as  they  are''   And  this  is 
the  proper  answer. 

But  if  the  Poet  has  represented  things  in  neither 
of  these  ^^•ays,  he  may  answer,  that  he  has  re- 
presented them  as  they  are  said  and  believed 
to  be.  Of  this  kind  are  the  poetical  descrip- 
tions of  the  Gods/-  It  cannot,  perhaps,  be  said, 
that  they  are  either  what  is  best,  or  what  is 
true;  but,  as  Xenophanes  says,  opinions  "taken 
up  at  random :"  these  are  things,  however,  not 
'*  clearly  known'' 

Again — What  the  Poet  has  exhibited  is,  per- 
haps, not  what  is  best,  but  it  is  the  fact ;  as  iii 

the 


'  **  ^  bind  with  golden  horns^'^  is  expressly  mentioned 
by  Pindar  in  his  3d  Olympic  Ode,  and  by  other  Greek 
Poets.  This  inaccuracy  in  natural  history,  had  probably 
been  the  subject  of  critical  cavil, 

*  i.e.  to  common  nature.  Above,  he  expresses  it,  bj 
'*  representing  things  such  as  they  vjcre,  or  are^ 


192  Of  Critical  Objections^  &c.        [part  IV, 

the   passage    about   the   arms   of  the   sleeping* 

soldiers : 

-     -     -    fivcd  upright  in  the  earth 

Their  spears  stood  by^     -     -     - 

For  such  was  the  custom  at  that  time,  as  it  is  now 
among  the  Illyrians. 

TV. 

Censure  of       In  Order  to  judge  whether  what  is  said,  or  done^ 

IMMORAL 

speech     by  any  character,  be  well,  or  ?//,  we  are  not  to 

or  , 

action,      consider  that  speech  or  action  alone  \  whether  in 

how  to  be  .        .>, 

cxiuuiued.  ttselj 

*  Iliad,  X.  152. — In  Pope's  translation,  v.  170,  &c. — 
'  On  what  account  this  had  been  objected  to  by  ihe  critics, 

we  are  left  to  guess.  Dacier,  after  Victorius,  supposes 
the  objection  to  be,  that  the  spears,  so  fastened  in  the 
ground,  could  not  be  readily  disengaged,  in  case  of  a 
sudden  attack.  I  shall  only  observe,  that  by  Homer's 
description  of  the  truce  in  the  3d  book,  this  appears  to 
have  been  the  usual  position  of  their  spears  when  no 
attack  was  apprehended,  and  in  open  day-light;  which 
makes  it  the  less  surprising  that  it  should  have  been 
objected  to  as  an  impropriety  in  a  situation  of  nocturnal 
danger,  such  as  is  described  in  the  passage  referred  to. — 
What  Pope,  1 1 1.  177,  translates,  "  rest  their  spears,"  is, 
in  Homer,  "  their  spears  were  fixed, ^"^  ( — Tta^a  J*  iyx^ 
fMH^a  riEriHrEN.  V.  135.) 

"  This  is  plainly  connected  with  what  precedes,  which 
cannot  be  properly  applied  without  taking  in  the  con- 
sideration of  character,  circumstances,  motiz/cs.  Sec. — The 
speech  of  Satan,  for  example,  in  Parad.  Lost,  IV.  32, 
taken  in  itself,  is  horrible  ;  referred  to  tlie  character  who 

to, 

^  ^  speaks 


PART  IV.]         Of  Critical  Objections,  ^c,  193 

Uself  it  be  good,  or  bady  but  also  by  w  horn  it  is 
spoken  or  done,  to  whom,  at  what  t'mie,  in  what 
manner,  or  for  what  end — whether,  for  instance, 
in  order  to  obtain  some  greater  good,  or  to  avoid 
some  greater  evil. 

V. 

For  the  solution  of  some  objections,  we  must  ^"^^<3*- 

^  ^  TION 

have  recourse  to  the  Diction.     For  example  :  ®^  ^''^ 

^  second 

OTPHAS    jLtei/    TTOUTOV ,  ^^indplc. 

"  On  MULES  and  dogs  the  infection^r^if  began  *." 

Pope. 
This  may  be  defended  by  saying,  that  the  Poet 

has,  perhaps,  used  the  word  «^>ja?  in  its  foreign^ 
acceptation  of  sentinels,  not  in  its  proper  sense, 
of  mules- 
So  also  in  the  passage  where  it  is  said  of  Dolo?i-- 

EIAOS  juei/  B7}v  Tcocic©^^ 

Oi  form  unhappy.  -  r  - 


The 


speaks  it,  nothing  can  be  better.  It  is,  poetically  speaking, 
exactly  what  it  should  be. 

*  //.I.  69. — The  reason  of  the  objection  here  \s  not 
told,  and  has  been  variously  guessed  by  the  commentators. 
Probably,  the  propriety  of  making  the  mules  the  first 
sufferers,  before  horses  and  other  animals,  was  the 
matter  in  dispute.  Tlie  objection  seems  frivolous,  and 
the  solution  improbable. 

^  U.K.  316.— Pope,  X.  375,  has  followed  Aristotle's 
interpretation : 

"  Not  blest  by  nature  with  the  charms  efface, 
But  swift  of  foot,  and  matchless  in  the  race." 
VOL.  I.  0  The 


194       *  0/ Critical  OhjectionSy  &c,        [PART  iv. 

The  meaning  is,  not,  that  his  perso?i  was 
deformed,  but,  that  liis  face  was  uglij  \  for 
the  Cretans  use  the  word  ETEIAE2  — ''  xvell- 
formed"  —  to  express  a  beautiful  ^ifce. 

Again  : 

ZaPOTEPON   ^6  X6fa/f£* 

Here,  the  meaning  is  not,   "  mix  it  strong,^'  as  for 
intemperate  drinkers  ;  but,  "  mix  it  quickly'' 
2.  The  following  passages  may  be  defended  by 

.METAPHOR. 

"  Now  pleasing  sleep  had  scal'd  each  mortal  eye ; 
*^  Stretch'd  in  the  tents  the  Grecian  leaders  lie.; 
**  Tlie    immortals  slumber''d   on    their    tlirones 
above  ^" Pope. 


The  objection  of  the  critics  is  supposed  to  have  been, 
that  an  ill-made  man,  could  not  be  a  good  racer.  See 
Pope's  Note, 

♦  Iliad  IX.  267,  8. — Pope  follows  the  common,  and 
probably  the  right,  acceptation  of  the  word.  '*  Mix 
**  purer  wine." — Aristotle's  interpretation  has  not  made 
its  fortune  with  the  critics.  He  seems  to  have  produced 
it  rather  as  an  exemplification  of  the  sort  of  answer 
which  he  is  here  considering,  than  as  an  opinion  in  which 
he  acquiesced  himself.  It  was,  probably,  an  answer 
which  /lad  been  given.  The  cavil,  according  to  Plutarch, 
came  from  Zoilus,  [See  the  Symposiac  Prob,  of  Plut.  V.  4. 
where  this  subject  is  discussed,  and  several  other  con- 
jectural senses  of  the  word  Zu^ote^ov  are  proposed.] 

*  Beginning  of  JL  II. — fVhat  it  was  that  wanted 
defence  in  this  passage,  and  that  was  to  be  taken  meta- 
phorically, we  are  not  told.     That  it  was  the  rcprc- 

4  sentation 


P  A  R  T  I V . J  0/  Critical  Objections y  ^c.  1 95 

Again — 

"  When  on  the  Trojan  plain  his  anxious  eye 

"  Watchful  hefix'd^:'  -  -  - 
And— 

AuXcov  (Tu^iyyuiv  ff  OMAAON  ^.  -  — 

For,  ALL*,  is  put  metap/iorically^  instead  of 
ma?ii/  ;  all  being  a  species  of  77iany. 
Here  also — 

-  -  -  "  The  Bear  aloxe, 
**  Still  shines  exalted  in  th'  a^thcrial  plain, 
"  Nor  bathes  his  flaming  forehead  in  the  main'." 

Pope. 

sentation  of  the  Gods  as  sleeping,  is  the  most  probable 
conjecture.  This  is  somewhat  softened  by  Mr.  Pope's 
*'  slumbered.'*  Homer  says — *'  SLE^T  a/I  ths  nig/it.'' — 
B.UOOV  Trawuxioi* 

*  Iliad,  X.  v.  13.  (of  the  Orig,  v.  11.)  But  Pope's 
version  was  not  literal  enough  for  my  purpose.  For  the 
supposed  objection,  see  my  note. 

^  Ibid,  15,  16. —  Orig.  13.  The  sense  of  the  ex- 
ample may  be  given,  pretty  closely,  thus  : 

"  The  distant  voice  of  flutes  and  pipes  he  mark'd 
With  wonder,  and  the  "  busy  hum  of  men." 

But  this  docs  not  answer  exacdy  to  the  Greek,  where 
the  word,  which  I  have  rendered  /lum,  may  signify  either 
the  hum  or  murmur  of  a  multitude,  or  the  multitude  itself. 
See  the  note. 

^  As  the  Greek  word  for  all,  does  not  occur  in  any 
of  the  preceding  examples,  we  suppose  some  example, 
corresponding  to  this  explanation,  to  have  been  lost. 

•  i.e.  by  Synecdoche,     See  above,  p.  166. 

Iliad,  XVIII.  V.  565,  566,  and  see  the  note  there. 

O  3 


ii 


196  Of  Critical  Objections,  ^'c.         [part  I v. 

Alone,  is  metaphorical:  the  most  remarkable 
thing  in  any  kind,  we  speak  of  as  the  ofili/  one. 

We  may  have  recourse  also, 

3.  To  ACCENT  :  as  the  following  passage — 

AIAOMEN  Se  01  eJ%®'  oc^sa-doii'- — 

And  this — ro  [xiv  OT  xxrocuvhToci  o/xp^w' — werc 
defended  by  Hippias  of  Thasos. 

4.  To  PUNCTUATION  ;  as  in  this  passage  of 

Empedoclcs : — ■ 

Aiipa  ^£  GvriT   e(pvovTO  toc  ttdiv  fjLotBov  aSocvocT  eivctt, 
ZnPA  TE   TA  nPIN  AKPHTA 

i.  e.  things,  before  immortal^ 

Mortal  became,  and  mixd  before  unmix  d^, ' 

[Their  courses  changed.] 

5.  To 

*  See  Pope's  Iliad,  II.  9,  and  his  note.  For  the 
Jesuitical   distincdon   of  Hippias* s  Theology,  see  the 

NOTE. 

3  II.  Y.  328.— Pope's  transl.  XXIII.  402.—"  un- 
*«  perished  with  the  rains."  According  to  a  difFcrenl 
accentuation  of  the  word  OT,  in  the  original,  it  would 
mean,  "  where  perished   with  the   rains. "  —  See  the 

NOTE. 

♦  The  verses  allude  to  the  two  great  physical  prin- 
ciples of  Empedoclcs,  which  he   chose   lo   denominate 

friends/lip  and  strife,  and  in  which  modern  philosophers 
have  discovered  the  Newtonian  principles  of  attraction 
ar-d  rt pulsion.  He  held  everything  to  be  formed  of  the 
four  eletrents,  and  resolved  into  diem  again.  Friendship 
was  the  uniting,  strife,  the  separaiing,  principle.     The 

elements 


PART  IV.]  Of  Critical  Objections,  l£c»  1 9  y 

5.  To"  ambiguity;  as  in  —  vx^u^nycsv  cTf 
nAEHN  Kjg  ^  —  where  the  word  XIAEXiN  is 
ambiguous. 

6.  To  cusTOAiARY  spEF.cir:  thus,  wine  mixed 
with  water,  or  whatever  is  poured  out  to  drink  as 
wine,  is  called  0IN02  —wine :  hence,  Ganymede 
is    said— AiV   OINOXOETEIN^  —  to    "  pour   the 


(( 


WINE 


elements  themselves,  in  their  separate  and  simple  state, 
were  immortal ;  the  things  compounded  of  them,  were 
mortal;  i.e.  liable  to  be  resolved  mto  their  first  prin- 
ciples.— As  far  as  we  can  make  anything  of  this  frag- 
ment, it  seems  intended  to  express  the  two  contrary 
changes  of  things ;  from  immortal  to  mortal,  by  the 
uniting  principle,  and  from  mortal  to  immortal,  i.  e.  from 
mixed  to  unmixed,  by  the  ctisunitiu^  principle.  But  the 
words — "  mixed  before  unmixed^*  will,  plainly,  express 
either  of  these  changes,  according  as  wc  place  the' 
comma,  after  mixed,  or  after  before.  It  is  imagined,  that 
the  critics  mistook  the  punctuation  so  as  to  make 
Empedoclcs  express  only  the  same  change  in  different 
words,  and  then  censured  this,  as  inconsistent  with  the 
expression,  **  their  courses  changed,''*  [Jja?A:iTT0VTa  KEX^iQag 
— changing  their  ways,"] 

'  y/.  K.  252. — Pope's  translation,  X.  298.  The 
original  says,  "  more  than  two  parts  of  the  night  are  past; 
the  third  part  remains." — This  the  cavilling  critics  cen- 
sured as  a  sort  of  bull.  What  is  guessed  to  have  been  the 
answer,  the  reader  may  see,  but  I  believe  will  hardly  wish 
to  see,  in  Dacier's  notes. 

*  II.  T.  234.  Pope,  XX.  278,  &CC. — He  rend  tvAt — 
"  to  bear  the  cup  of  Jove.'* 

03 


198  Of  Critical  Objections^  l:fc,         [PART  I v, 

"  WINE  to  Jove  :"  though  wine  is  not  the  liquor 
of  the  Gods.  This,  however,  may  also  be  de- 
fended by  metaphor^. 

Thus,  again,  artificers  in  iron  are  called 
XaAx£tj — literally,  brasiers.  Of  this  kind  is  the 
expression  of  the  Poet— rK^rj^i?  vtorzMXT-d  KASSf- 
TEPOIO'. 

7.  When  a  word,  in  any  passage,  appears  to 
express  a  contradiction^  we  must  consider,  in  how 
many  different  sensls  it  may  there  be  taken. 
Here,  for  instance — 

*    r    9  > 

— T^  ^  EEXETO  %aXxgoi/  iyx®^ — 

*'  There  stuck  the  lancet"  Pope. 

— the  meaning  is,  was  stopped  only,  or  repelled. 

Of 


'  The  metaphor  from  species  to  species.     See  p.  167. 

•  //.  O.  592. — Literally,  "  greaves  of  //V/."  But  it  is 
not  custcmary  speech  with  «5,  to  say  tin^  for  iron  or  steel. 
The  deck  word  for  tin,  however,  appears  to  have  been 
so  used. — We  are  not  here  to  understand  the  objection 
to  have  been  pointed  at  the  improper  use  of  a  word. 
The  critics  took,  or  pretended  to  take,  the  word  in  its 
proper  sense,  and  thence  objected  to  the  absurdity  of  tin 
armour. 

^  II.  XX.  321. — Mr.  Pope  seems  to  have  translated 
very  accurately  here,  and  to  have  preserved  even  the 
ambiguity  of  the  original;  for  the  verb,  to  stick,  admits, 
like  the  Greek  word,  {Ix^a^^)  of  two  senses; — that  of 
^^'^"^gfastcned  to,  or  fixed  in,  and  that  of  being  stopped — 
prevented  from  going  farther, — Sec  the  note. 

"  impene- 


FARTlv.]  Of  Critical  Objections^  bfc,  1 99 

Oihow  many  different  soises  a  word  is  capable, 
may  best  be  discovered  by  considering  the  dif- 
ferent senses  that  are  opposed  to  it. 

We  may  also  say,  with  Glauco,  that  some 
critics,  first  take  things  for  granted  without 
foundation,  and  then  argue  from  these  pre- 
vious decisions  of  their  own;  and,  having  once 
pronounced  their  judgment,  condemn,  as  an  in- 
consistence, whatever  is  contrary  to  their  precon- 
ceived opinion.  Of  this  kind  is  the  cavil  of  the 
critics  concerning  Icarius\  Taking  it  for  granted, 
that  he  was  a  Lacedaemonian,  they  thence  infer 
the  absurdity  of  supposing  Telemachiis  not  to 
have  seen  him  when  he  went  to  Laced^emon*. 
But,  perhaps,  what  the  Cephalenians  say  may 
be  the  truth.  They  assert,  that  the  wife  of 
Ulysses  was  of  their  country,  and  that  the  name 
of  her  father  was  not  IcariuSy  but  Radius.    The 

objection 


-  —  "  impenetrable  charms 
Secur'd  the  temper  of  th'  aetherial  arms. 
Thro'  tivo  strong  plates  the  point  its  passage  held, 
But  stopped,  and  rested,  6y  the  third  repeWd'y 
Five  plates  of  various  metal,  various  mold, 
ComposM  the  shield ;  of  brass  each  outward  fold, 
Of  tin  each  inward,  and  the  middle,  gold : 
There  stuck  the  lance."  -  -  -  - 


«  Mentioned  by  Homer  as  the  father  of  Penelope. 
*  See  Pope's  Odyssey^  IV. 

04 


2CX)  Of  Critical  Objectionsy^c.         [part  iv, 

objection  itself^  therefore,  is  probably  founded 
on  a  mistake. 

VI. 

Censure        fhe  Impossibky  in  general,  is  to  be  justified  by 
Impossibi-  referring,  either  to  the  end  of  Pottry  itself,  or  to 
farther     what  is  bcst,  OX  to  opimo/i. 

cousidercd.  ^  ■* 

For,  with  respect  to  Poetry,  impossibilities, 
rendered  probable,  are  preferable  to  things  im- 
probable, though  possible^, 

■  With  respect  also  to  what  is  best^,  the  imita- 
tions of  Poetry  should  resemble  the  paintings  of 
Zeuxis^:  the  example  should  be  more  perfect 
than  nature. 

To 

3  See  Pari  III.  Seci.  6.  and  Note^,  p.  184. 

^  Improved  nature,  ideal  beauty,  &c.  which,  else- 
where, is  expressed  by,  what  s/ibuU  be.  Compare  the 
beginning  of  this  Part,  and  Sect,  3. — Part  I.  Sect.  3. — 
Part  II.  Sect,  IS-p-  146. 

*  "  In  ancient  days,  while  Greece  was  flourishing  in 
*'  liberty  and  arts,  a  celebrated  painter,  [Zeuxisy']  having 
"  drawn  many  excellent  pictures  for  a  certain  free  state, 
*'  and  been  generously  rewarded  for  his  labours,  at  last 
*'  made  an  offer  to  pukit  them  a  Helen,  as  a  moe/el  and 
"  exemplar  of  ihe  most  exquisite  beauty.  The  proposal 
**  was  readily  accepted,  when  the  artist  informed  them, 
"  that  in  order  to  draw  one  Fair,  it  was  necessary  he 
"  should  contemplate  many.  He  demanded  therefore  a 
'*  si^ht  of  all  their  finest  women.    The  state,  to  assist 

«*  the 


PART  IV.]         Of  Critical  Objections,  &c.      '  lot 

To  opiniony  or  what  is  commonly  said  to 
he,  may  be  referred  even  such  things  as  are 
improbable  and  absurd;  and  it  may  also  be 
said,  that  events  of  that  kind  are,  sometimes, 
not  really  improbable ;  since  *'  it  is  probable, 
that  many  things  should  happen  contrary  to 
probabihty^' 


.6  " 


TKNCE. 


VII. 

When  thinss  are  said,  which  appear  to  be  Ixconi 
contradictory,  we  must  examine  them  as  we  do 
in  logical  confutatidti :  whether  the  same  thing  be 
spoken  of;    whether  in  the  same  respect,  and  in 
the  same  sense,     ******* 


VIII. 


Improbability,  and  vitious  manners,  when  ex-  Impiioba- 
cused  by  no  necessity,  are  just  objects  of  critical       and 

VITlOUS 

censure.    Such  is  the  improbability  in  the  JEgeus'^  chabacteb, 
of  Euripides,  and  the  vitious  character  of  Mene- 
laus  in  his  Orestes^, 

Thus, 


*<  the    work,    assented    to    his    request.     They  were 

"  exhibited  before  him;  he  selected  the  most  beautiful; 

*'  and  from  these  formed  his  Helen,  more  beautiful  than 

'*  them  all." — Harris's  Three  Treatises,  p.  216, 

•  See  Part  II.  Sect.  20,  at  the  end;  and  note  156. 

^  Of  this  Tragedy,  some  inconsiderable  fragments 
only  remain. 

*  See  p.  144. 


JUcapituIa- 
tion. 


202  Of  Critical  Objections  y  Iff  c.         [part  I  v. 

Thus,  the  sources  from  ^hich  the  critics 
draw  their  objections  are  five:  they  object  to 
things  as  impossiblcy  or  improbable,  or  of  inwioi^al 
tendency^  or'  contradictory,  or  contrary  to  tech- 
nical accuracy.  The  answers,  which  are  twelve 
in  number,  may  be  deduced  from  what  has 
been  said^ 

^  The  reader,  who  regards  his  own  ease,  will,  I 
believe,  do  well  to  take  this  for  granted.  If  however 
he  has  any  desire  to  try  the  experiment,  he  may  read  the 
NOTE  on  this  passage ;  and  I  wish  it  may  answer  to 
him. 


[     203     ] 


PARTY. 

OF   THE    SUPERIORITY    OFTRAGIC   TO 

EPIC    POETRY. 


I. 

TT  may  be  inquired,  farther,  which  of  the  two  Objectioh 
■^  imitations,  the  Epic,  or  tlie  Tragic^  deserves  Tbacedt. 
the  preference. 

If  that,  which  is  the  least  vulgar,  or  popular, 
of  the  two,  be  the  best,  and  that  be  such,  which 
is  calculated  for  the  better  sort  of  spectators — the 
imitation,  which  extends  to  every  circumstance ', 
must,  evidently,  be  the  most  vulgar,  or  popular; 
for  there,  the  imitators  have  recourse  to  every  kind 
of  motion  and  gesticulation,  as  if  the  audience, 
without  the  aid  of  action,  were  incapable  of 
understanding  them  :  like  bad  flute-players,  who 
whirl  themselves  round,  when  they  would  imitate 
the  motion  of  the  Discus,  and  pull  the  Coryphaeus, 
when  Scylla  is  the  subject*.    Such  is  Tragedy. 

It 


*  Though  Aristotle  instances  in  gesture  only,  the 
objection,  no  doubt,  extended  to  the  whole  imitative  re- 
presentation of  the  theatre,  including  the  stage  and 
scenery,  by  which  place  is  imitated,  and  the  dresses,  which 
are  necessary  to  complete  the  imitation  of  the  persons, 

*  See  the  notes. 


a04         Superiority  of  Tragic  to  Epic  Poetry,     [part  r. 

It  may  also  be  compared  to  what  the  modern 
actors  are  in  the  estimation  of  their  predecessors ; 
for  Myjusctts  used  to  call  Callipides,  on  account 
of  his  intemperate  action,  the  ^/?e;  'dnA  Tyndarus 
was  censured  on  the  same  account.  What  these 
performers  are  with  respect  to  their  predecessors, 
the  Tragic  imitation,  when  entire,  is  to  the  Epic. 
The  latter,  then,  it  is  urged,  addresses  itself  to 
hearers  of  the  better  sort,  to  whom  the  addition 
of  gesture  is  superfluous :  but  Tragedy  is  for  the 
people^]  and  being,  therefore,  the  most  vulgar 
kind  of  imitation,  is  evidently  the  inferior. 

II. 
The  But  now,  in  the  first  place,  this  censure  falls, 

answere"  .  not  upon  the  Poefs  art,  but  upon  that  of  the^rc/or; 
for  the  gesticulation  may  be  equally  laboured  in 
the  recitation  of  an  Epic  Poem,  as  it  was  by 
Sosistratus ;  and  in  singings  as  by  Muasitheus,  the 
Opuntlan, 

Again — All  gesticulation  is  not  to  be  con- 
demned ;  since  even  all  dancing  is  not ;  but  such 
onlv,  as  is  unbecoming — such  as  was  objected 
to  Callipidcs,    and  is   now  objected  to   others, 

whose 


^  "  It  must  be  allowed,  that  stage-poetry,  of  all 
**  other,  is  more  particularly  levelled  to  please  the 
**  populace,  and  its  success  more  immediately  depending 
**  upon  the  common  suffrage,"  Pope's  Pref  to  Shaks* 
peare. 


PART  v.]     Superiority  of  Tragic  to  Epic  Poetry,  205 

whose    gestures    resemble   those    of   immodest 
women  *.  # 

Farther — Tragedy,  as  \vell  as  the  Epic,  is 
capable  of  producing  its  effect,  even  without 
action ;  we  can  judge  of  it  perfectly  by  reading  \ 
If,  then,  in  other  respects.  Tragedy  be  superior, 
it  is  sufficient  that  the  fault  here  objected  is  not 
essential  to  it. 


6.      _..j      Tragedj. 


III. 

Tragedy  has  the  advantage  in  the  following  Advan- 
respects. — It  possesses  all  that  is  possessed  by  of 
the  Epic;  it  might  even  adopt  its  metre ^:  and 
to  this  it  makes  no  inconsiderably  addition,  in  the 
Music  and  the  Decoration ;  by  the  latter  of  which, 
the  illusion  is  heightened,  and  the  pleasure, 
arising  from  the  action,  is  rendered  more  sensible 
and  striking. 

It  has  the  advantage  of  greater  clearness  and 
distinctness  of  impression,  as  well  in  ixadirig^  as 
in  representation.  ^ 


♦  As  no  actresses  were  admitted  on  the  Greek  stage, 
their  capital  actors  must  frequently  have  appeared  in 
female  parts,  such  as,  Electra^  Jphigenia,  Mcdea^  &c. 
This  is  sufficiently  proved  by  many  passages  of  antient 
authors;  and  among  others,  by  a  remarkable  story  of 
an  eminent  Greek  Tragic  actor,  told  by  Aulus  Gellius. 
See  the  note. 

*  So  above,  p.  121, — "  the  power  of  Tragedy  is  felt 
"  without  respresentation  and  actors." 

•  See  NOTE  36, 


2o6  Superiority  of  Tragic  to  Epic  Poetry,     [part  v. 

It  has  also  that,  of  attaining  the  end  of  its 
imitation  in  a  shorter  compass :  for  the  etfect  is 
more  pleasurable,  when  produced  by  a  short  and 
close  series  of  impressions,  than  when  weakened 
by  diffusion  through  a  long  extent  of  time ;  as 
the  Oedipus  of  Sophocles,  for  example,  would 
be,  if  it  were  drawn  out  to  tlie  length  of  the 
Iliad, 

Farther :  there  is  less  laiili/  "^  in  all  Epic  imi- 
tation; as  appears  from  this — that  any  i-pic 
Poem  will  furnish  matter  for  several  Tragedies. 
For,  supposing  the  Poet  to  chuse  a  idhX^  strictly 
ofw,  the  consequence  must  bo,  either,  that  his 
Poem,  if  proportionably  contracted,  will  appear 
curtailed  and  defective,  of,  if  extended  to  the 
usual  length,  will  become  weak,  and,  as  it  were, 
diluted.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  suppose  him 
to  employ  several  fables — that  is,  a  fable  com- 
posed of  several  actions^ — his  imitation  is  no 
longer  strictly  one.  The  Iliad,  for  example,  and 
the  Odyssey  contain  many  such  subordinate  parts, 
each  of  which  has  a  certain  magnitude,  and  unity, 

of 


^  See  p.  59,  Note^, 

'  Compare  Part  II.  Sect.  20,  and  Note  9. — Arlstode 
is  not  here  speaking  of  that  unconnected,  historical 
multiplicity  of  action,  which  he  had  before  condemned, 
[Part  III.  Sect,  I.]  but  of  such  as  was  essential  to  the 
nature  of  the  Epic  Poem.  -This  is  plain,  from  the 
example,  which  immediately  follows ;  and,  indeed,  from 
the  very  drift  of  his  argument. 


PART  v.]     Superiority  of  Tragic  to  Epic  Poetry,         207 

of  its  own:  yet  is  the  construction  of  those 
Poems  as  perfect,  and  as  nearly  approaching  to 
the  imitation  of  a  single  action,  as  possible. 

IV. 

If  then  Tragedy  be  superior  to  the  Epic  in 
all  these  respects,  and,  also,  in  the  peculiar  end 
at  which  it  aims^,  (for  each  species  ought  to 
afford,  not  any  sort  of  pleasure  indiscriminately, 
but  such  only  as  has  been  pointed  out,)  it 
evidently  follows,  that  Tragedy,  as  it  attains 
more  effectually  the  end  of  the  art  itself,  must 
deserve  the  preference. 


Prefer- 
ence 
of 
Tragedt. 


SION. 


And  thus  much  concerning  Tragic  and  Conclw 
Epic  Poetry  in  general,  and  their  several 
species — the  number  and  the  differences  of  their 
parts — the  causes  of  their  beauties  and  their 
defects — the  censures  of  critics,  and  the  prin- 
ciples on  which  they  are  to  be  answered, 

^  i.e.  according  to  Arlstode's  principles,  to  give 
"  that  pleasure,  which  arises  from  terror  and  pity,  through 
"  imitation  J*    See  p,  139. 


NOTES. 


t  209  ] 


NOTES. 


NOTE    1. 
P.  101.      DlTHYRAMBICS — IMITATION. 

T  F  the  senses,  in  which  the  term  imitation  is 
-*■  appHed  by  Aristotle  to  Poetry,  have  been 
rightly  determined  in  the  first  Dissertation,  there 
can  be  no  difficulty  with  respect  to  the  imitative 
nature  of  the  Epic  and  Dramatic  species.  That 
of  the  Dithyrambic  is  not  quite  so  obvious,  and 
has  accordingly  been  variously  explained.  The 
little,  however,  that  remains  of  what  Aristotle 
had  said  upon  this  subject,  seems  sufficient  to 
release  any  commentator,  who  is  willing  to  be  re- 
leased, from  the  trouble  of  conjectural  ingenuity. 
In  Sect,  3.  Part  I.  where  the  different  objects 
of  imitation  are  considered,  he  expressly  makes 
Dithyrambic  Poetry  imitative  of  actions,  charac- 
ters, and  manners,  as  well  as  the  Epic  and 
Dramatic;  and  he,  particularly,  mentions  the 
Persians  and  the  Cyclops  as  imitated  in  the 
VOL.  I.  p  Dithyrambic 


116  NOTES. 

Dithyrambic  and  Noiiiic  Poetry  of  Timotheus 
and  PhUoxenus*.    We  may  conclude,  then,  that 
he   rctyarded  this   kind  of  Poetry  as  imitative 
because,  though   the   mythological  tales,  whicli 
furnished  the  subject  of  these  hymns,  were,  in- 
deed, articles  of  Pagan  faith,  and  depended  not 
on  the  Poet's  imagination,  yet,  in  the  detail  of 
these  stories,  in  describing  the  actions,  and  de- 
lineatin<^  the  chmacters,  of  the  deities  themselves, 
and,  still  more,   of  other  fabulous  and   heroic 
personages   occasionally  introduced,    his   fancy 
and  invention  must  necessarily  be,  more  or  less, 
employed.     Tliis,    as  we   have  seen,    was,   in 
Aristotle's  view,  imitation ;    whether  the  form  of 
that  imitation  was  partly  dratnatic  and  person- 
ativc,    or    mere   recital    in   the   person   of  the 
Poet\    That  the  Poetry  of  these  Dithyrambic 
compositions  was  chiefly  of  the  latter  kind,  seems 
to  be  implied  in  the  expression  of  Plato,  who, 
where  he  explains  his  division  of  Poetry  into 
three  sorts—the  purely  imitative^  or  dramatic, 
the  purely  mrrative,  and  the  wi.re^/— refers,  for 
an  example  of  the  purely  narrative,  to  Dithyr- 
ambic Poetry.    Yet  he  says  only,  tliat  it  is  to  be 
found  chiefly  there — lM^oi<;  S'  dv  auttji/  MAAISTA 
nor  U  £^i^M^ctii.^oki  ^    The  expression  is  remark- 
able, and  leaves  room  for  more  than  a  conjecture, 

that 


»   —  ui  nEPXAX  HOI    KTKAnnA2   Ti/*o5£®-  hm 
*  Diss.  I.  p.  36.  '  Kep.  lib.  iii.  p.  394 


NOTES;  211 

that  the  Dithyrambic  was  sometimes  imitative 
even  in  the  strict  sense  of  Plato ;  that  is,  that 
the  diamatic  mixture  of  the  Epic  was  occasion- 
ally admitted.  Instances  of  this  occur  in  the 
Odes  of  Pindar  **;  and  many  of  the  Odes  of 
Horace  are  dramatic*. 

The  embarrassment  of  the  commentators  seems 
to  have  arisen,  principally,  from  the  difficulty 
they  found  in  conceiving,  that  Jiction  could  be 
admitted  into  a  species  of  Poetry  addressed  to  the 
Gods,  and  founded  on  the  established  Theology 
of  the  age.  The  hymns  of  Callimachus,  and 
those  attributed  to  Homer,  might  have  been 
sufficient  to  remove  this  difficulty.  These  are  not, 
like  the  Orphic  hymns,  mere  invocations,  and 
indigitamenta,  consisting  in  a  short  and  solenm 
accumulation  of  epithets  and  attributes  :  they  are 
Epic,  narrative  hymns  \  in  which  the  birth,  the 
actions,  and  even  the  characters  and  manners  of 

the 


^  OlympA.  Jntist.  y,  where  Pelops  speaks.  See  also 
Olymp.YLEpodca,  and  y,—Olymp.  VIII.  A>.|9.-   And 

the  prophecy  of  Ampliiaraus,  in  Pyth.  VIH.  Strophe  y . 

and  of  Medea,  Pyth.  IV.  Jntht.  a,  to  j^ntnt  7.— The 
Odes  o^^Pindar,  indeed,  are  not  strictly  Dithyrambic 
Poetry  ;  but  the  chief  difference  was  probably  that  of 
their  subjects, 

*  See  Dr.  Warton's  Essay  on  Pope,  vol.ii.44,  &c. 
where  the  beauties  of  those  dramatic  Odes,  and  par:u  u- 
larly  of  the  fifth  Epode^  arc  pointed  out  and  illustrated 
with  much  taste. 

P  2 


211  NOTES, 

the  deities  are  described  at  length,  and  the  fic- 
tions of  tiie  Poet's  imagination  are  every  where 
engrafted  upon  the  popular  creed.    The  mixture 
of  dramatic  imitation,  in  the  Dithyrambic  Poetry, 
is  also  rendered  more  probable  by  the  frequent 
examples  of  it  in  these  hymns ;  and  especially  in 
those  of  Homer.    From  the  enthusiastic,   wild, 
audacious  character^  peculiarly  attributed  to  the 
Bacchic  hymns,  we  have,  surely,  no  reason  to 
suppose  in  them  a  degree  of  scruple  and  reserve, 
with  respect  to  all  this,  which  we  do  not  find  in 
other  antient  religious  compositions  of  a  more 
sober  and  regular  cast. 

After  what  has  been  said,  the    reader  will 
hardly  think  it   necessary  to  have  recourse  to 
so  distant  and  conjectural  an  interpretation  as 
that    of  the   Abbe    Eatteux,   who   says—''  Le 
''  Dithyrambe  est  imitation,  parceque  le  Poetc, 
"  en  le  composant,  exprime  d'apres  le  vraisem- 
"  blable,  les  sentimens,  les  transports,  Tivrcsse, 
"  qui  doit  regner  dans  le  Dithyrambe  ^    This 
ingenious  writer  seems  to  have  been  forced  into 
this  solution  of   the   matter    by   his   desire   of 
extending  the  pimiciple  of  Poetic  imitation  be- 
yond the  limits,  not  only  of  Aristotle's  meaning, 
but  of  all  reasonable  analogy.    ////  Lyric  Poetry 
he  holds  to  be  essentially/   imitative;    and  de- 
fining it  to  be  that  Poetry,    "  gid  exprwie  Ic 

"  senti- 


'*"  Audaces  Dithyrambos."    Hor, 

«  Ch.  i,  of  his  translation ;— w/^,  under  the  text. 


N    O    T    E     ^.  213 

sentiment^,''  he  is  reduced  to  the  necessity  of 

making  out  these  sentiments,  ov  feelings,  to  be, 

in  some  sort,  imitatiojis ;    for  no  other  reason, 

than,  that  they  are  assumed   and  feigned — the 

temporary  produce  of  that  voluntary  enthusiasm* 

which  the  Poet,  by  the  force  of  his  imagination, 

excites  in  himself  durinfj  the  moments  of  com- 

position.     But  this  belongs  rather  to  the  style 

and  manner,  than  to  the  matter,  of  Poetry :   if 

imitation  at  all,  it  is  the  imitation,  not,  properly, 

of  the  Poet,  but  of  the  man,  in  order  to  become 

the    Poet.  —  The   general    character   of    Lyric 

Poetry   is   enthusiasm ;     and   enthusiasm,    says 

M.  Batteux,  **  n'est  autre  chose  quiin  sentiment 

"  quel  quit  soit — amour,  colere,  joie,  admira- 

"  tion,   tristesse,   &c. — produit  par  une  idee'.'' 

But  if  all  illusive  feelings  of  this  kind,  raised 

in   us  bv  ima<iination.  are  imitations,  then,  not 

only  every  artist  of  genius  is  an  imitator,  when 

he  conceives  and  plans  his  work,  but  even  every 

man  of  sensibility,  whenever  he  is  led,  by  the 

voluntary  excursions   of   his   fancy,   into  warm 

and  passionate  feelings,  that  are  not  prompted  by 

real  circumstances. — It  is  certain,  indeed,   that 

not  only   Dithyrambic  and   Lyric   Poetry,    but 

Epic  also,  and  perhaps  every  other  species  worth 

regardinft 

^  See  his  Beaux  Arts  reduits  a  un  mime  principey 
ch.  on  Lyric  Poetry:  and  vol.  iii.  of  his  Principes  de  la 
literature,  ch.  i.   Tralte  6. 

*  Principes  de  la  Lit,  Trait e  6,ch,u 

P3 


214  NOTES. 

regarding,  has  its  appropriated  style  and  tone, 
which  every  Poet  adopts  and  imitates^  when  he 
composes  in  the  kind  to  which  it  belongs.  But 
the  same  may  be  said  of  a  history,  a  sermon,  and 
even  of  a  letter :  for  in  tliese  also,  though  we 
may  not  imitate  any  particular  writer,  we  natu- 
rally conform  to  the  general  style  and  manner 
that  characterize  ilie  particular  species  of  com- 
position. All  tliis  however  has,  manifestly, 
nothing  to  do  with  the  imitation  that  we  are 
considering. 

The  Lyric  Poet  is  not  always,  and  essentially, 
an  imitator,  any  more  than  the  Epic.  While  h^ 
is  merely  expressing  his  own  sentiments,  in  his 
own  pcf\son,  we  consider  him  not  as  imitating; — 
we  inquire  not  whether  they  are  the  assumed 
sentiments  of  the  Poetic  character,  or  the  real 
sentiments  of  the  writer  himself;  we  do  not  even 
think  of  any  such  distinction.  He  is  understood 
to  imitate,  in  the  most  general  view,  no  other* 
wise  than  by  fiction,  by  personation,  by  descrip- 
tion,  or  by  sound  ^;  in  the  view  of  Aristotle,  only 
by  the  two  first  of  these. 

I  will  only  add,  that  the  Dithyrambic  Poeti-y 
was,  it  seems,  not  originally  imitative,  but  became 
so  by  degrees.  This  fact,  and  the  causes  of  it,  we 
Itprn  from  a  curious  passage,  in  the  Harmonic 
Problems  of  Aristotle,  which  1  shall  have  occasion 
to  mention  in  another  place. 


*  See  Z>/ii^r/.  I,  pt  32. 


NOTES. 


215 


NOTE     2. 

P.  102.     For    as    men,    somje    through 

ART,     AND    SOME     THROUGH    HABIT,    IMITATE 
VARIOUS    OBJECTS,  &C. 

I  have  followed  the  old  and  most  authentic 
reading,  hoe,  mq  ^XINHS  :  which,  though  not  un- 
exceptionable, has  been  rejected,  I  think,  without 
sufficient  reason.  The  philosopher  is,  here,  only 
illustrating  what  he  had  said  of  the  different 
means  of  poetical  and  musical  imitation,  by  com- 
paring those  arts,  in  this  respect,  witli  other  arts 
more  strictlif  and  obviously  imitative*  That  he 
meant  to  confine  his  illustration  to  Painting,  w  as  a 
groundless  fancy  of  Dacier,  which  led  him  into  two 
unnecessary  corrections  of  the  text,  and  a  very 
forced  and  improbable  explication  of  the  whole 
passage.  The  remark  of  Aristotle,  parenthetically 
flung  in,  about  art  and  habit,  (©»  /xtv  ha,  rs^vn^y 
ot  ^f  hoc  <ruvn9£ia?,)  was  by  no  means  necessari/  to 
his  illustration.  Dacier  extends  the  parenthesis 
by  the  reading  he  adopts,  (o*  iaiv  hoc  rs^vn^:,  h  h 
hot,  (TuptjOfta?,  iTff 01  h  Ar  AM^OIN,)  then  wonders, 
why  Aristotle,  "qui  n'ecrit  pas  un  seul  mot 
**  inrttilement,''  should  enter  into  such  a  detail; 
and  then,  wantonly  alters  the  text,  (from  %( 
Tiyyviiy  to  hot,  TTXHI,)  in  order  to  account  for  it 
in  a  manner,  that  leaves  it  more  wonderful  than 
he  found  it.    Castelvetro  had  before  proposed  a 

p  4  a  similar 


2i6  NOTES. 

a  similar  alteration— m^o*  $i  AM^OTEPOIS ;  but 
in  a  sense,  which,  could  it  be  supported,  would 
be  far  more  to  the  purpose  Than  that  of  Dacier : 
i.  e.  "  others,  again,  [imitate]  both  by  colour 
"  and  by  figure."  This  would  answer  to  what 
follows, — that  the  different  7?i€afis  of  imitation,  in 
the  Poetical  and  Musical  arts,  were  used,  some- 
times separattli/y  and  sometimes  combined.  To 
this  sense,  however,  an  objection  immediately 
occurs.  We  may  imitate  an  object  by  figure 
without  colour,  but  not  by  colour  without  figure. 
This  difficulty,  indeed,  Castelvetro  endeavours 
to  get  rid  of,  by  understanding  o-p^njtAaTa,  here,  to 
denote  only  the  solid  form  of  Sculpture,  and 
^^u{AXTXj  Painting,  as  chicfJy  characterized  by 
colour ;  and,  thus,  for  an  example  of  imitation  by 
both  those  means,  he  is  forced  to  have  recourse 
to  the  coloured  Sculpture  of  the  antients*.    But 

it 

*  That  the  antients  sometimes  coloured  their  statues, 
is  well  known.  From  many  passages  which  might  be 
produced  as  proofs,  I  shall  select  one  from  Plato,  which 
is  curious,  and  would  be,  alone,  decisive.  It  is  in  the 
beginning  of  his  4th  book  Dc  Repub, — It  had  been  ob- 
jected, that,  by  the  severity  of  his  laws  relating  to  his 
^u>wcig  or  magistrates,  they  were  reduced  to  a  worse 
condition,  with  respect  to  happiness,  than  the  rest  of  the 
cm^cns.  His  answer  is,  that  the  aim  of  his  legislation 
was,  not  to  provide  for  the  superior  happiness  of  any 
one  part  of  his  commonwealth,  but  for  the  greatest 
possible  happiness  of  the  whole,  *'  Suppose,"  says 
4  Socrates^ 


NOTES.  217 

it  would  be  a  waste  of  discussion  to  enter  fully 
into  the  merits  of  an  explanation,  that  is  founded 
on  a  reading,  by  no  means,  I  think,  sufficiently 
warranted,  either  by  the  authority  of  MSS.  or  by 
any  necessity  of  alteration. 

That  the  words  p^^wjuara  and  (r;^»ijuaT«  are  very 
frequently  joined  by  the  Greet  writers  to  denote 
painting,  is  certain**.  But  Aristotle  is  not  here 
speaking  of  the  different  Arts  which  employ 
these  meam  of  imitation^  but  of  the  means  them- 
selves, 

Socrates,  "  we  were  painting  a  statue ;  and  any  one 
'*  should  come,  and  object  to  us,  as  a  fault,  that  we  did 
^'  not  apply  the  most  beautiful  colours  to  the  most 
"  beautiful  parts  of  the  body — that  we  had  made  the 
"  eyes^  for  instance,  black,  when  we  should  have  given 
*'  them,  as  being  the  chief  beauty  of  the  human  form, 
"  a  purple  colour. — It  would,"  continues  Socrates,  "  be 
"  a  very  reasonable  apology,  if  we  should  request  this 
*'  critic  not  to  insist  on  our  making  the  eyes  so  beautiful, 
*•  as  to  have  no  longer  the  appearance  of  eyes ;  but  to 
*'  consider,  only,  whether,  by  giving  to  each  part  its 
**  proper  colour,  we  should  not  make  the  whole  beau- 
"  tiful.— This  is  precisely  the  apology  1  make  for  our 
<*  legislation  :  I  request  the  objector,  not  to  insist  on  our 
**  allotting  to  the  guardians  of  the  state  such  a  happiness, 
"  as  would  render  them  any  thing  else  rather  than 
**  guardiam^^  &c.  Plato  De  Rep,  lib,  iv.  p.  420.  C. 
Ed,  Ser.     O.d'BSi^  h  av  ei — &c. 


# 


-*•  See     Jrist,   de    Rep,   lib.  viii.   cap.  5.     p.  455.    C, 
Plat,  de  Rep,  x.  p.  601.  A.  De  Leg,  ii.  p.  669.  A. 


• 


2i8  NOTES. 

selves,  separately  and  abstractedly.  The  appli- 
cation of  tliese,  singly,  or  in  their  various  com- 
binations, to  those  arts,  he  lias  left  to  the  reader. 
It  seems  probable,  (as  Victorius  has  observed,) 
that  Sculpture,  at  least,  was  included  in  Aristotle's 
idea  of  cp^npara.  Possibly,  too,  the  word  may  be 
here  used  in  its  widest  sense,  oi  figure  ox  form 
in  general;  which  would  take  mikiQ.' outline  of 
Painting,  the  solid  figure  of  Sculpture*",  and  the 
gestures  of  the  personal  Mimic. 

That,  at  least,  the  word  ^wm  is  right,  in  the 
old  reading,  appears  highly  probable  from  the 
jfrequent  mention  of  the  voice,  as  a  principal 
instrument  of  imitation,  in  antient  authors'*.  It 
is  called   by  Aristotle,    as   Mr.  Winstanley  has 

judiciously    obseiTCd,    irootriAiy    fAifxriTixuraroy     rcyy 

Farther — by  this  reading  the  illustration  in- 
tended is  more  perfect,  asxit  comprehends  more 
*^  means  of  different  kinds'' — FENEI  In^a.  The 
same  reason  favours  also  the  extension  of  the  word 
r;^t}jw.aT«  to  Sculpture,  at  least 

The  only  objection  to  the  reading,  fix  mg 
^wyjif,  is,  the  improbability  that  Aristotle  should, 

m 

without 

*^  Xx>^fAa  is  defined  by  Socrates,  in  the  Me  no  of 
Plato,  to  be,  ire^a^  reffs — *'  the  boundary  of  W/V/ form." 

*  See  Diss,  I,  towards  the  end,  Note\  Ficiorius  dt- 
fends  the  reading  on  the  same  ground, 

*  Rhet,  lU?,  iii.  cap,  1.^4. 


NOTES.  219 

without  any  apparent  reason,  envelop  the  whole 
passage  in  embarrassment  and  ambiguity,  by 
such  a  change  of  phrase : — AIA  <pmi\g  ; — which 
every  reader  is  naturally  led  to  join,  not  with  the 

datives,  ^^ufxoKri,  hmi  (rp^rjjutao-*,  but  with  AIA 
T£;^mf,  and  AIA  a-vvrihiag  :  but  the  word  <puyr,g 
opposing  such  a  construction,  has  therefore,  pro- 
bably, been  changed  to  »[A(poiv. — This  objection 
has  not  been  solidly  answered,  I  think,  either  by 
Victorius,  or  any  other  commentator ;  nor  can  I 
think  the  change  of  phra,se  here  by  any  means 
sufficiently  accounted  for,  merely  by  assigning,  as 
Victorius  does,  a  passage  of  Lucian,  where  the 
phrase  itself  (to  which  no  one  objects,)  occurs. 
[See  Mr.  Winstanley 's  note.] — I  am  much  in- 
clined, therefore,  to  admit  the  reading  said  by 
Madius  to  have  been  found  in  an  antient  MS. 
and  confirming  the  conjecture  of  Robortelli,^— 
In^Qi  h  THt  ^X2NHt.  This  would  clearly  mark 
the  bounds  of  the  parenthesis,  and  fix  the  con- 
struction :     x«»    Xf"/**^*>    ^°^^    o'PC'"'**^*?    ttqXXk 

NOTE    3. 

P.  102.  And  of  any  other  instruments 

CAPABLE  OF  A  SIMILAR  EFFECT,  AS,  THE 
SYRINX    OR^PIPE. 

The   word   2u^iyg  is  usually   understood   to 
mean  the  Fistula  Panis,  constructed  of  reeds, 

differing 


220  NOTES. 

differing  in  length,  fastened  together  with  wax  and 
thread: — xocXocfMm  (rvvir,xn,  Xivw  xxi  xu^w  (rvvh^mrx — 
as  it  is  described  by  Jul.  Pollux  *.  Tibullus  has 
presented  in  two  lines  almost  as  distinct  an  idea 
of  its  form  as  can  be  obtained  from  a  drawing. 

Fistula  cui  semper  decrescit  arundinis  ordo, 

Nam  calamus  ceri  jungitur  usque  minor, 

[Lib.ii.  5.31.] 

But  the  Suf  lyg  of  Aristotle,  whatever  it  was,  is 
here  mentioned  with  the  Lyre,  and  the  Flute,  as 
having  some,  though  an  inferior,  degree  of  the 
same  pc/wer  and  effect: — roiocvroci  Tijy  ^uva^iv. 
This  is  hardly  applicable  to  so  very  simple  and 
rude  an  instrument  as  the  pipe  of  Pan;  a  con- 
trivance not  beyond  the  invention  of  a  school-boy. 
Instruments  of  nearly  the  same  construction  are 
found,  at  this  day,  not  only  in  Turkey,  and  Arabia, 
but  even  in  the  island  of  New  Amsterdam  in  the 
South  Seas^  and  it  is  a  circumstance  somewhat 
curious,  that,  in  France,  the  instrument  of  the 
Arcadian  deity,  or  something  very  like  it,  is  de- 
graded to  the  use  of  travelling  tinkers,  and  known 
by  the  name  of  sijiet  de  chaudrmnier.  The 
reader  may  see  a  description  and  a  figure  of  it  in 
Mersennus';  as  he  may,  also,  of  the  South  Sea 
instrument  in  the  Philosophical  Transactions, 
vol.65,  Part L— But  he  .will  not,  probably,  be 

much 


*  Onomast.  lib,  iv.  cap.  9. 

•»  Dr.Burney's  Hist,  of  Musicy  vol.  i.  p,S^^ 

*  Harmonic,  p.  73. 


NOTES.  221 

much  disposed  to  believe,  that  the  wild  and 
random  sounds  of  this  savage  whistle  have  any 
thing  to  do  with  the  chromatic  system  of  the 
Greeks. 

But  the  passage  before  us  is  not  the  only  one, 
where  the  Si/rina:  is  mentioned  in  a  way  which 
naturally  leads  one  to  suppose,  that  some  instru- 
ment less  simple  and  imperfect  than  the  fistula 
Panis  must  be  meant.  It  is  often  joined  with  the 
cithara  and  the  flute,  as  an  instrument  of  some 
importance   and  effect   in  concerts  and  choral 
accompaniments*.      In    Lucian's   treatise    Us^i 
0^;^»j(r£wf,  it   appears,  among  other  curious  in- 
formation upon  the  subject,  that  the  words  of 
the  drama,  which  the  pantomimic  dancer  was  to 
express  by  gesture  alone,  were,  at  the  same  time, 
sung  by  a  chorus,  accompanied  by  various  instru- 
ments, among  which  the   syrinx   is  repeatedly 
mentioned,  together   with  the  AuX^  or  flute  ^ 
This  has,  certainly,  the  appearance  of  some  more 
powerful  instrument  than  the  pastoral  syrinx. — 
Indeed,  from  the  passage  of  Pollux  above  re- 
ferred to,  there  is  reason  to  conclude,  that  there 
were  two  instruments  of  this  denomination  ;  that 
above  described,  wliich  he  calls  the  rude,  or  ej:- 
tanporaneous  syrinx,  [auroa-p^cJ'*^]  and  another, 

of 


^  See  Spanheim,  in  Callimachum — Hymn,  in  Diananij 

V.243-    - 

•  Ed,  Bcnedictiy  p. 942,  E.— 938,  D,  E.— 945,  B. 


222  NOTES. 

of  similar  form,  but  more  artificial  c6nstraction, 
which  he  describes  as  consisting,  not  of  reeds, 
but  of  a  number  o^ flutes,  [aJxoi  TroXAoi]  arranged 
in  the  same  manner.  The  passage  is  defective ; 
but  this  seems  to  me  pretty  clearly  to  be  the 
drift  of  it^  By  flutes,  he  must,  at  least,  be  sup- 
posed to  mean  pipes  of  larger  size,  and  of  more 
solid  materials,  such  as  tliose  of  which  flutes 
were  made. 

It  seems,  on  the  whole,  very  probable,  that  the 
syrinx  of  Aristotle  was  e/Mcr  some  such  improved . 
construction  of  the  flute  of  Pan,  or,  as  I  rather 
incline  to  believe,  some  kind  of  single  pipe,  or 
flageolet.  Any  single  pipe,  modulated  by  the 
fingers,  must  be  regarded  as  an  instrument  far 
superior  to  any  kind  of  the  fistula  Panis,  that 
could  be  played  on  only  by  the  clumsy  expedient 
of  drawing  it  along  the  mouth ; — "  supr^  calamos 
"  unco  percuiTere  labro,"  as  Lucretius  has  well 
described  the  operation^.     I  cannot  indeed  say, 

that 


^  The  passage  should,  I  think,  be  written  as  defective, 

thus  :  >>  /*EV  av,  (sc.  av^iyi,)  KaXafxav  ht  o-vvQrv€v]  ^ivoj  km  x>jf» 

a-vv'^i^eia'a,  hys  avTOa-x^^i^*     ******#♦ 

ATAOl  7ro>^oif  htaa7^  u.  t.  o>^,  —  Salmasius  supplied 

the  hiatus  thus  :  —  AAA*  'H    ZnOTAAIOTEPA,  al,\oi 

'jro>^iy  Sec. — I  would  not  answer  for  the  very  ivor^^s ; 

but  that  something  equivalent  is  omitted,  I  have  litde 

doubt.  See  Ed,  Hempst,  p.  387.  AVr  43. — where,  by  the 

way,  Kuhnius  commends  the  emendation,  but  appears 

to  misunderstand  it. 

«  Lib,  V.  1406. 


NOTES.  22? 

that  I  have  met  with  any  passage  in  which  the 
word  Sufi-yJ,  by  itself,  is  clearly  and  expressly 
applied  to  a  single  musical  pipe  or  flute.  But 
such  a  sense  is  perfectly  analogous  to  other 
common  applications  of  tlie  word  ^ ;  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  I  know  of  no  clear  authority  that 
restrains  the  meaning  of  the  word,  whenever  it 
is  singly  used,  to  the  fistula  Panis.  Atheneeus 
speaks  of  the  /xokoxaXa/A(^  SoftyH  invented  by 
Mercuiy,  and  opposes  it  to  the  TroAuxaXajt*^ ' ; 
and  Spanheim'',  whose  authority,  in  matters  of 
erudition,  is  as  great  as  the  profoundest  erudition 
can  give  to  any  man,  understands  this  single-reed 
syrinx  to  be  meant  in  the  hymn  to  Mercury  attri- 
buted to  Homer,  where  it  is  said  of  that  god, 
that— 

ITPirrriN    \voisiiv    7roiy}(rciiTo    THAOe' 
AKOYITHN.  v.  509. 

— a  mode  of  characterizing  the  tone  of  the  in- 
strument, that  reminds  one  of  the  "  ear-piercing 
fife'  of  Shakspeare. 

After  all,  a  modern  reader  may  be  still  sur- 
prised to  find  any  degree  of  imitation,  or  expres" 
sion,  attributed  to  so  trifling  an  instrument  as  a 

flageolet, 


^  Vide  Lexica  :  and  see  Dr.  Burney's  Hist  of  Music, 
vol.  i.  p.  511,  where  it  is  righdy  observed,  that  ''  cack 


u 


of  the  pipes"  which  composed  the  fistula  Panis,  "was, 
properly,  a  Sr^^tvi." 

»  P.  184.  k  Ubi  supra. 


224  NOTES, 

flageolet,  or  a  common  flute.     But,  in  reading 
antient .  authors,  it  is  frequently  necessary,  if  we 
would  either  relish,  or  even    understand  them, 
properly,  to  lay  aside  modern  ideas.    And  if  this 
be  necessary  in  general,  it  is,  perhaps,  peculiarly 
so  in  the  subject  of  Music.     Expression,  in  our 
musical   language,  usually  conveys  the  idea  of 
delicate  and  refined  performance,  and  is  almost 
appropriated  to  emotions  of  the  tender  and  pa- 
thetic kind.     But,  with  the  antients,  imiiation,  or 
expression  (for  tlie  words  appear  to  have  been 
synonymous  \)  extended  to  every  kind  of  emotion; 
to  every  tjfect  produced,    in  any   considerable 
degree,  by   Music  upon  the  mind.     Now  very 
simple  instruments,  as  well  as  very  simple  music, 
are  capable  of  making  impressions,  and  strong 
impressions,  of  the  Joi/ous  kind,  without  any  de- 
licacy or  refinement,  either  in  the  composition,  or 
the  execution.     It  is  not,  therefore,  strange,  that 
the  syrinx,  a  shrill  and  lively  pipe,   should  be 
ranked  by  Aristotle  as  an  instrument  of  so}7ie  ex- 
pression ;  especially  if,  as  it  seems  probable,  the 
syrinx,  of  xvhatever  kind,  was  considered  as  a 
pastoral  instrument,  and  its  expressions  were,  in 
consequence,  aided  by  the  association  of  rural 
and  pastoral  ideas".     The  rude  syrinx  of  Pan 


was 


*  See  Diss.  II. 

"  "  One  of  the  most  affecting  styles  in  music  is  the 
pastoral.     Some  airs,"  [we  may  add,  and  those  imtru- 

mentSy 


NOTES.  225 

* 

was  unquestionably  of  this  kind,  and  appropri- 
ated to  pastoral  use";  and,  as  far  as  it  can  be 
supposed  to  have  affected  by  association,  mii^ht. 
in  the  musical  language  of  the  Greeks,  and  by  a 
hearer  who  felt  that  effect  from  it,  be  considered 
and  spoken  of  as  imitative,  u  ithout  impropriety. 
But  being,  as  I  conceive,  of  too  simple  and  in- 
convenient a  construction  to  admit  of  any  expres- 
sion but  what  it  derived  purely  from  assoeiated 
ideas,  it  would  not,  I  think,  have  been  joined  by 
Aristotle  with  the  7}iost  expressive  and  rejined  in- 
struments of  the  antients,  the  cithara,  and  the/wfe'*, 
and  mentioned  as  of  "  similar  power  and  effect'' 

merits,  also,  on  which  we  have  been  used  to  hear  those 
airs  performed,]  "  put  us  in  mind  of  the  country,  of 
''  rural  sights  and  rural  sounds,  and  dispose  the  heart  to 
''  that  chearful  tranquilHty,  that  pleasing  melancholy, 
•*  that  '*  vernal  delight^''  which  groves  and  streams, 
*•  flocksandherds,  hills  and  vallies,  inspire.*'  Dr.Beattic 
^^-Essay  on  Poetry  and  Music,  p.  142. 

°  Plato,  Rep.  iii.  p.  399.     Serran. 

*»  Aristotle,  in  the  8lh  book  De  Republica,  cap.  vi. 
where  he  is  considering  what  instruments  should  be  used 
in  the  musical  education  of  children,  excludes  the  cithara, 
as  too  complicated  and  difficult  for  any  but  professors.  He 
calls  it  rtx^LKov  o^yavov,  and  ranks  it  with  the  a^A©-  or 
flute.  Plato,  however,  admits  the  use  of  the  cithara  in 
his  republic,  as  a  more  simple  instrument  than  the  flute, 
which  he  forbids.  [Rep,  iii.  ubi  supra.l  For  some  idea 
of  the  delicacy  and  refinement  of  execution,  and  force 
of  expression,  (xp  ctcil  from  the  accomplished  Av>mr\iy 
I  refer  the  <  adcr  to  t'lr  H ^rmonides  o\  Lutian,  and  to  a 
pass  ge  in  Philostraius,  Ed.  Moru.  p.  228. 

VOL.  1.  Q 


y\ 


a26 


NOTES. 


NOTE   4. 

P.  102.    For  there  are  dancers  who  bt 

RHYTHM    applied    TO    GESTURE    -      -      -. 

The  Greek   is — o*  twi/   Q^x^ruy:  but  there  is 
great  reason  to  suspect  the  reading.     It  is  gene- 
rally rendered,  "  Some  dancers : "  but  Victorius, 
-who  understands  it  in  that  sense,  s^ys—durus 
iamen  sermo;    and   produces  no  authority  for 
such  a  phrase.     Heinsius  proposed — ot  nOAAOI 
ruv  o^x'^fw.  The  learned  reader  may,  perhaps, 
agree  with  me,  that  -  -ENIo*  twv  ©fX"^"*'*  would  be 
preferable,  as  nearer  to  the  text.    It  is  not  pro- 
bable, that  the  degree  of  imitative  skill  here  de- 
scribed was  possessed  by  all  dancers,  or  even  by 
"  the  greater  parf  of  them.     A  passage  from 
Aristocles  is  preserved  by  Athenaeus,  in  which 
Telestes,  a  dancer  employed  by  iEschylus,  is  men- 
tioned as  remarkable  for  this  talent: — OTTX22 

HN  TEXNITH2,  wn,  6>  tw  o^x^trixi  raj  Evrx  Im 

[Jther?.p,  22.]  This  dancing  appears  plainly  to 
have  been  of  that  kind,  which  was  afterwards 
pushed  to  such  an  excess  of  cultivation  by  the 
pantomimic  dancers  in  the  age  of  Augustus ' ; 
and  which  is  well  known  to  have  divided  all 

Rome 


•  —  HUTa  Tov  2EBA2TON  tAoCKLTo,"  at  (xev  7«f  arfwToi 
mav. — Lucian,  d€  Salt,  p.  927.  EJ.  Bemd. 


NOTES.  227 

Rome  into  parties,  and  even,  frequently,  to  have 
made  the  theatre  a  scene  of  bloodshed  ^  Of  this 
fact,  I  cannot  helpadditig,  that  a  proof  somewhat 
curious  is  furnished  by  Valerius  Maximus  ;  who, 
in  the  arrangement  of  his  miscellaneous  w^ork, 
places  his  chapter  De  SpectacuUs,  immediately 
after  that,  De  militaribus  instiintis ;  and  gives 
this  reason :  **  Proximus  militaribus  institutis, 
ad  urbana  castra^  id  est,  Theatra,  gradus  faciendus 
est :  quoniam  haec  quoque,  sc^penumeroy  anwtosas 
acics  imtruxerunt ;  excogitataque  cult  ft  s  Deorum, 
et  hominum  delectationis,  causa,  non  sine  aliquo 
pacis  rubore,  voluptatem  et  religionem  civili 
s a:<gv IS E,scenicoj^umporte7itorum  gratia,  macu- 
lilrunt."  [Lib.  ii.  4.] — These  scenicapor tenia  wer« 
the  Pantomimes. 

Aristotle  says  here,  Six  rm  G-^ni^xTi^oixtvuv 
^u^fAuv.  It  seems,  at  first  view,  that  the  inverse  of 
this  expression  would  have  been  more  accurate — - 
Stx  ruy  ^v^i^il^ofAEvccy  (r)(riiJi.xTuv  —  by  rhythmic 
gestures.  And,  if  he  had  been  here  considering 
the  imitation  of  Dance,  separately,  and  in  itself, 
he  probably  would  have  expressed  himself  in  that 
way.  But  dancing  is  here  transiently  mentioned,, 
merely  to  exemplify  what  he  had  been  saying,  of 
the  combined,  or  separate,  use  of  rhytJim,  words^ 
and  melodjj ;  and  to  shew,  in  w  hat  manner,  not 
only  melody  and  rhythm  mig;ht  be  separated  from 
words,  as  in  music  \  but  rhythm,  also,  might  be 

separated 


^  See  Tacit,  and  Sueton.  passim, 
Q  2 


w 


228  NOTES. 

separated  from  melody,  and  used  alone  ^  Any 
mode  of  expression,  therefore,  which  would  have 
represented  gestures  {(r'xv^f/.oLia)  as  the  principal 
means  of  the  imitation,  would  not  have  suited  his 
purpose.  It  would,  also,  as  Victories  and  others 
have  observed,  have  tended  to  confound  the  meatis 
of  imitation  in  the  poetic  and  musical  arts,  which 
he  is  here  considering,  with  those  means  of  a 
different  khid,  which  he  had  just  enumerated,  as 
employed  in  arts  t)f  more  obvious  and  strict 
imitation,  and  among  whiclir  2XHMATA  were 
mentioned. 

It  has  been  also  ^objected,  that  Aristotle  is, 
here,  professedly  instancing  U  txh  EIPHMENAI2 
Tf^v^K — in  the  arts  "  above-mentioned  " — and 
yet  introduces  Dancing,  which  had  not  been 
mentioned :  a  difficulty  easily  overcome,  if  we 
consider,  that  Dancing  was  among  the  musical 
arts ;  closely  connected  with  Poetry,  and,  above 
all,  with  Tragedy, 

^  For  such  an  instance,  he  could  have  recourse  only  to 
Dance  ;  and  so  Arist,  Quitttil.^pvGn^  h  KAe'  ATTON 
fjiiv  [votnai]  km  ^lAHX  OPXHIEHS.  The  whole  pas- 
sage, where  he  is  considering  melody,  rhythm,  and  words, 
in  their  separate  use,  and  in  their  various  combinations, 
is  curious,  and  may  serve  to  illustrate  this  part  of  Aristotle's 
treatise. — See/).  3i>  32.  Ed,Mdb, 


NOTES. 


229 


NOTE    5. 

P.  102.  The  epopoeia  imitates  by  words 

ALONE,    OR    BY    VERSE,  &C. 

In  my  translation  of  this  perplexing  passage, 
as  far  as  the  words  —  Troiono  rnu  fjL^ixrKnv  —  in- 
clusively, I  have  given  that  sense  which  is  now 
generally  adopted,  and  in  which  almost  all  the 
commentators  are  agreed  *.  And  it  has  certainly 
this  advantage,  that  it  seems  to  be  the  only  con- 
sistent and  intelligible  version  that  can  be  given 
of  the  whole  passage,  as  it  fwzv  stands.  But  it 
appears  to  me,  after  the  closest  attention  I  have 
been  able  to  give  it,  that,  in  the  present  condition 
of  the  text,  no  man  can  reasonably  be  confident 
of  conveying  the  true  meaning  of  Aristotle  in  any 
translation  or  explanation  that  he  can  give. 

The  passage  sets  out  with  an  expression  most 
unfortunately  ambiguous,  and  demonstrated  to  be 
so,  by  the  very  confidence  w  ith  which  the  am- 
biguity has  been  denied,  by  critics  and  com- 
mentators of  great  learning  and  sagacity,  in  favour 
of  interpretations  directly  opposite  to  each  otlier. 
Some,  by  the  expression,  Xoyoig  xl^iXoi^,  have  un- 
derstood Aristotle  to  mean/?ro^e,  and  others,  verse, 
without  music. — But  this  is  far  from  beinsr  all  the 
difficulty  with  which  a  translator  has  to  strucjde 

in 


*   Madias,    Bcni,    Piccolomini,    Heinsius,    Dacier, 
Batteux. 

Q3 


i 


ill 


230  NOTES. 

in  this  passage.     In  the  words— £40'  m  rm  ytm 
XPHMENH    Twv    [xtT^uy    Tuyp^anttra    MbXPI    TOT 
NTN — there  is,  surely,  something  defective.    All 
render  this, — **  or,  makhig  use  of  some  one  hind 
**  of  metre,  as  it  has  done  to  this  day^''  And 
this,  indeed,  seems  the  only  sense  that  can  be 
given  to  the  words  as  they  stand.    But  it  appears 
to  me,  that  the  original  cannot,  by  any  fair  and 
warranted  elliptical   construction,   be   made  to 
say   this.     Heinsius   alone    gives  the   fair   and 
literal  version  ;  "  vel  uno  tantum  genere  utatur 
"  usque  ad  tempus  nostrum" — in  plain  English — 
"  whether  mixing  difterent  metres  together,  or 
*'  using  some  one  kind  of  metre  to  this  day'^T 
I  am  perfectly  aware  of  the  elliptical  genius  of 
the  Greek  language  in  geneml,  and  of  Aristotle's 
style,  in  particular;  yet  to  my  ears,  I  confess, 
this  English,  nonsensical  as  it  is,  does  not  sound 
more  siranije  than  the  Greek  from  which  it  is 
taken.     Some  word,  or  words,  must,  I  should 
suppose,  have  been  omitted  bet\veen  TU7;(;«>K<r«, 

Agam : 

^  **  Aut  uno  aliquo  metrorum  genere  usa  sit,  quod  a 
•*  prhcis  temporibus  ad  nostrum  usque  factitatum  «/.*' 
Goulston. — "  Ou  qu'elle  sc  contente  d'unc  seule  espece, 
«*  comme  ellc  Va  fait  jusq'  a  present."  Dacier. — And  so 
Piccolomini,  **  Per  quello  che  si  vede  fare  sino  ai  tempi 
M  d'oggi." 

^  It  is  so  rendered,  I  find,  by  the  English  translator  of 
1775  ;  **  either  intermixing  the  various  metres,  or,  ming 
«*  one  particular  iort  to  this  very  dajV 


NOTES.  231 

Again  :  —  ihv    yot^    iy    ^x^^f^^^    ONOMA2AI 
KOINON   T«f   Sw^^ok^  xoti  Stvoc^^H  iJi.ifji.Hg,  &C. — 

I  submit  it  to  those  who  are  versed  in  the  Greek 
language,  whether  it  seems  probable,  that,  if 
Aristotle  had  meant  to  express  the  sense  usually 
given  to  the  words,  (i.  e.  "  for  we  should  other- 
"  wise  have  no  common  name  to  give  ^o,"&c.)  he 
would  have  expressed  it  in  that  Greek?  I  can 
only  say  that  I  know  of  no  similar  example. 
But  farther  :  the  words  are  conditional — ^Siv  yx^ 
'  AN  «;^ot/Aik — and  yet  the  condition  is  by  no  means 
clearly  pointed  out.  The  sense  may  be,  and  has 
been,  variously  supplied.  It  seems  not  impro- 
bable, that  there  is  some  omission  between  the 
words,  vMv,  and  ihy, — I  am  not  able  entirely  to 
repel  a  suspicion — for  I  give  it  as  nothing  more — 

that  the  words,  /Afxf*  '^^  "^"j  ^^y  b^lo^^g  to  this 
sentence,  and  the  whole  may  originally  have  stood 

thus : — UTi  iJi,iyyvcoc  [Ji.sr  aAAijXwk,  fiO'  lv»  rivi  ytvH 
yj^(ul*.iyn  TWk  iJt.tr ^uv  rvy^Kvairoc,      Mi;^^*  TAP  ra  vvv 

aVfy  EXOMEN,  &c.  i.  e.  "  For  we  have  hitherto  no 
"  common  appellation  V'  &c. — So  much,  as  to 
the  condition  of  the  text  in  this  passage. 

The  interpretation,  which  I  have  followed,  has 
been  very  ably  defended  by  several  of  the  com- 
mentators, whose  arguments  I  need  not  repeat ; 
by  none,  I  think,  so  powerfully  as  by  Paolo  Beni^: 

but 


^  I  have  only  transposed  ya^,  and  omitted  av,  for  which 
omission  there  is  MS.  authority. 
•  Comment,  in  jfriitotelis  Poeticam^  Partic,  6* 

Q4 


232  NOTES. 

but  it  requires  considerable  patience  to  follow  him 

through  the  controversial  zigzag  of  his  captious 

and  fatiiiiiintj  lomc. 

The  slront];est  support  furnislied  by  Aristotle 

himself  to  this  extension  of  the  term  Epopceia 

to  all  imitation,  fiction,  invention,  &;c.  by  xvords 

onlyy  uithout  music,  zvhether  in  verse  or  prose,  is, 

I  think,  to  be  found  in  Sect,  6,  Part  I.  [Original, 

cap.  ix.]  For,  if  a  histoiy  put  into  verse  would,  as 

he  there  asserts,  be  still  a  sort  of  history,  we  may 

infer,  tliat  an  Epic  Poem  reduced  to  prose  would, 

in  his  idea,  have  been  still  a  sort,  at  least,  of 

Poem. — -What  lie  savs  in  the  conclusion  of  that 

section  — \\vdi  the  Poet  should  be  the  IIoiijTn?,  or 

JMaker,  rather  of  his  fable,  than  of  his  verse,  has 

the  same  aspect. — The  same  idea  is  also  favoured 

by  tlie  extent  which  he  has  actually  given  to  the 

term  Epopa^ia,  in  Sect.  3,  Part  I.  [Original,  cap,  ii.] 

where   it  is  expressly  applied,  not  only  to  the 

serious   Poetry  of  Homer,  but  to  Poems  of  a 

comic,  and  even  burlesque,  character.     An  Epic 

Poem  w  ithout  elevation  is,  nearly,  as  repugnant 

to   modern  ideas  as  a  Foe?n  without  verse.    It 

would  not  appear  much  more  strange  to  give  the 

title   of  Epic   Poem   to   Tom   Jones,    than,  to 

Iludibras;  to  apply  it  to  the  Tckmatjuei  would, 

undoubtedly,  appear  much  less  strange ^ 

It 

'   Itaque    video   visum    esse   nonriullis,   Platonis   & 

Demotriti  locutionem,  €tii  abut  a  versuy  tamen,  quod 

^  incitatius 


NOTES.  223 

It  may  be  worth  remarking,  farther,  that  there 
is  one  circumstance,  which,  I  think,  would  evi- 
dently tend  to  render  this  doctrine  of  Aristotle— 
if  it  was  his  doctrine — less  extraordinary  to  the 
antients,  than  it  appears  to  us ;  and  that  is,  that 
the  difference  between  metre,  and  well-measured 
prose,  though,  no  doubt,  sufficient  to  make  them 
readily  distinguished  by  the  ear,  seems  to  have 
been  less  than  it  is  with  us.  To  what  a  decree 
of  refinement  they  carried  their  rules  for  the 
application  of  the  various  poetical  feet  to  their 
prose  compositions,  and  with  w  hat  fastidious  deli- 
cacy of  ear  tliey  discriminated  one  combination 
of  syllables  from  another,  is  well  known  from 
the  writings  of  Cicero,  Quintilian,  Dion.  Halicar- 
nassensis,  &c. — It  would  be  thought  a  strange 
expression,  were  a  modern  writer  to  say,  com- 
paring the  Orator  and  the  Poet,  that  the  latter 
was  "  rather  more  confined  by  numbers :"  *'  nu- 

**  meris  adstrictiorpf/w/o*." 
But, 

incitatius  feratur,  et  clarissimis  verborum  luminibus 
utSLtur, potias  FoEM A putantlttm qud.m  comicorum  Poeta- 
rum,  apud  quos,  nisi  quod  versiculi  sunt,  nihil  est  aliud 
quotidian!  dissimile  sermonis.     Cic,  Oral,  cap,  xx. 

*  Cic,  de  Orat,\.i6.  —  So,  again,  Or.  ad  Brutum, 
cap.lxvi.  speaking  of  prose  compared  with  verse,  he  says, 
**  at  liberior  aliquanto  oratio." — To  the  same  purpose 
ibid,  cap,  xx.  Nam  etiam  Poetae  quaestionem  attulerunt, 
quidnam  essei  illiid  quo  ipsi  difFerrent  ab  oratoribus. 
Numero  maxime  vidcbantur  atitea,  et  vcrsu  ;  nunc  apud 
oratores  jam  ipse  numerus  incrcbuit^ 


• 


234  NOTES. 

But,  after  all,  the  chief  point  of  difficulty  appears 
to  me  to  lie,  not  in  Aristotle's  asserting,  that 
Poetry^  in  his  idea  of  tlie  word,  might  subsist 
without  verse,  but  in  his  giving  the  name  of 
Epopceia  to  such  compositions  as  the  Mimes  of 
Sophron,  and  the  Dialogues  of  Plato.  But  of 
this,  in  the  next  note. 

In  my  translation  of  the  words,  Xoyoi?  ^iXoiq^ 
I  have  ventured  to  depart  from  the  common  in- 
terpretation ;  but  without  any  material  change  in 
the  sense.  They  are  generally  understood  to 
mean  prose ;  and  Dacier  asserts  positively,  that, 
**  those  two  words  are  7?ever  joined  by  Aristotle 
"  or  Plato  in  any  other  sense**."  If  he  meant, 
that,  wherever  i^iA0»  is  joined  to  Xoy©^,  it  is  always 
used  to  exclude  metre  only,  he  is  certainly  mis- 
taken. He  had,  himself,  but  just  before,  quoted 
a  passage  of  Plato,  in  which  the  expression, 
Xpyo»  i}/iAo»,  appears  clearly  to  meap,  words  without 
melody.  It  is  in  his  second  book  De  Legibiis, 
where,  complaining,  in  his  usual  strain,  of  the 
separation  of  Poetry  and  Music,  he  says  of  the 
Poets,  that  they  employ  fv^iMov  fxtv  xai  fniAocroc^ 


^  C/i.  u  Note  22. 

*  I  have  ventured  to  alter  the  word  (rxyniarzct  to  pTDixara ; 
a  correction,  which,  I  think,  the  learned  reader  will  see 
to  be  obviously  necessary,  from  the  purport  and  ex- 
pression of  the  whole  passage.  The  opposition  is  clear— 

fv^iiov  (jLiv  Mai  PHMATA  jus^y^  ^•'f'J /w^^  I*  AT  uea 

fydfjuti  avBu  PHMAXaN. 


NOTES. 


23^ 


M1X8?  x^^^^y  AOrOTS  ^lAOrS  £12  METPA 
TI0ENTE2*  /tx£Xof  ^*  ocv  xat  puG/xs;  dyiu  pYiiAocTocv^ 
xJ/iAij   xiOa^tO'fi   rt   xat   auAijcct   w^oirx^UfASvoi^,     The 

words,  Xoyai  rl/^X8!;  il;  fAiT^oc  T*0fkT£?,  Dacicr  trans- 
lates, very  strangely,  "  mettant  de  la  simple  prose 
"  en  vers'^  But  what  has  turning  prose  into 
verse  to  do  with  Plato's  complaint  ? — ^^Xoi,  here, 
applied  to  Xoyoi^  answers  evidently  to  jtAfX«?  pc^f*f, 
and  excludes  melody ;  just  as,  in  \J/iX»j  xi^a^to-t* 
x«t  auA>j(r£»,  the  same  adjective  answers  to  a»fu 
p/xarwy,  and  excludes  W'or</,s^  And  this  appears 
to  me  to  be  the  obvious  sense  of  ^i\o^q  in  the 
passage  of  Aristotle  before  us.  By  Xoyon;  ^iXoiq^ 
I  understand — not,  words  without  jnetre,  i.e. 
Prose — but,  words  without  music.  It  is,  surely, 
most  natural,  and  most  to  Aristotle's  purpose,  to 
apply  the  privative  force  of  \)/»a0»,  here,  to  the  two 
means  of  imitation,  melody  and  rhythm ;  which 
are  excluded  in  the  Epopoeia,  as  words  are,  in  the 
preceding  instance  of  the  flute  and  the  lyre,  and 
both  M'ords  and  music,  in  that  of  dance.     And 

thus 


^  Ed,  Serr,  vol,  ii.  p.  669. 

*  I  find  this  very  passage  mentioned  by  Casaubon, 
De  Satyrica,  &c.  p.  346,  with  the  same  explanation  of 
^078;  i|^txv(. — This  is  not  the  only  instance  in  Plato  that 
contradicts  the  assertion  of  Dacier.  In  a  passage  of  his 
Symposium,  cited  by  Victorius,  [Ed.  Serr.  p.  215.]  the 
words — avtu  o^avm,  ^iXoti  Xoyoi; — arc,  I  think,  rightly 
rendered  by  Serranus,  "  Siae  ulUs  i»5trumemis,  assd 
iantum  simplici^m  voce,'* 


236  NOTES. 

thus  he  has  actually  used  the  word,  in  the  com- 
pound vJytXojtAfT^ia,  in  the  next  chapter.  The  only 
difference  is,  that  there  he  has  joined  the  word 
iJ/iA©*  to  metre  ;  here,  to  xvords  in  general.  But 
in  both  places,  the  meaning  is  probably  tlie  same — 
i  e.  "  without  melodi/  and  rhijthmy 

The  word  Xoy^  is,  plainly,  used  by  Aristotle, 
in  his  first  enumeration  of  the  means  of  imitation, 
[ — \y  "Pu^fJi^to  Kxi  Aoyw  xai  *A^[Moyioi,.  cap.  i.]  in  the 
general  sense,  of  language,  discourse,  or  words, 
whether  with,  or  without  metre  ;  as  we  say,  "  the 
"  zivrds  of  a  song,"  &c.  as  opposed  to  the 
music";  and  that,  whether  those  words  are  verse, 
as  in  general  they  are,  or  prose,  as  in  the  songs 
of  the  Messiah,  and  in  the  anthems  of  our 
church.  And,  that  the  word  Xoyo^  was  pur- 
posely used  by  Aristotle  in  this  latitude,  is  ren- 
dered highly  probable  by  his  varying  the  expres- 
sion, where  he  speaks  of  Tragedy,  Comedy, 
Dithyrambics,  and  Nomes,  to  which  metre  was 
essential,  and  substituting  there,  the  word  Mit^w, 
for  Aoyu.  It  was  natural,  then,  that  he  should 
say, 

^  So  Virgil  ; 
"  -  -  -  numeros  memini,  si  VERBA  tenerem." 

EcL  ix. 
Nothing  is  more  common  than  this  use  of  ^070©-  in 

Aristotle  and  Plato.  Thus  the  latter,  De  Rep.  //^.  iii.— 
TO  |Lt£X®-  tK  r^icov  en  auyxetfisyoV)  AOFOT  ts  xcu  a^fjutvia; 
MM  puQfxa — which  agrees*  exactly  with  Aristotle's  account 
of  the  means  of  imitation. 

■  fu9fMt,  mi  f^tMiy  KM  M£T?n<.  Cap.  i. 


NOTES.  237 

say,  when  he  came  to  speak  of  the  Epic  imitation, 
as  distinguished  from  those  he  had  before  men- 
tioned, that  it  imitates  bi/  zvords  alone — i.  e.  without 
melody  and  rhythm,  or,  as  we  should  say,  without 
music.  But  he  adds — u'  MtT^oiq — "  or  "verse."' 
And  why? — Probably,  because  he  thought  his 
expression  would  be  neitlier  clear,  nor  exact, 
,  without  it :  not  clear,  because  the  most  usual 
meaning  of  Xoyoi  iJ/iXo*  being  prose,  it  might  have 
been  so  taken  here,  and  he  might  have  appeared 
to  say,  at  least,  though  no  one  could  reasonably 
suppose  he  meant  it,  that  the  Epic  imitates  by 
prose  only — [xoitcu  roi^  Xoyoig  iJ/iAoij : — not  e.vact, 
because,  metre  being,  as  he  himself  expressly 
says,  a  species,  or  part,  of  rhythm",  words,  put 
into  metre,  were  not,  strictly  speaking,  \J/tAoi,  that 
is,  x^V^  Afjutoviaj  xat  PT0Mor.  And  this  is  exactly 
conformable  to  the  expression  of  Plato  in  the 
passage  above  quoted,  where  he  considers  verse, 
even  unaccompanied  by  music,  as  still  consisting 
of  rhythm  and  words,  [PXeMON  ^».iy  xa»  pu/Aar* 
MfXaj  p^w^K ;]  —  plainly  regarding  metre  as  a 
species,  or  form,  of  rhythm. 

I  understand,  therefore,  the  meaning  of  Aristotle, 

in  this  expression — roij  Xay^n;  ^iXaifi^  t!  to»j  /unr^oif, 

to  amount  to  this  ;  —  "by  words,  without  the 
'*  other  means  of  melody  and  rhythm,  or  at  most, 
"  with  so  much  of  rhythm  only,  as  is  implied  in 

«  ''  the 


•  ra  yaf  y^iT^a,  ori  MOPIA  ruvfuQfxuv  in,  ^an^ov.  Cap.W. 


23S  NOTES. 

"  the  idea  of  metre:  without  rhythm,  in  its 
'  musical  sense  of  strict  time '."  This  sense  of 
the  words  agrees  perfectly  with  what  follows— 
ihv  ya^  dv  i)(^oi[Mt¥y  &c.  i.  e.  '*  For  otherwise— 
"  if  we  do  not  allow  the  Epopoeia  to  imitate  bi/ 
"  wordSy  in  the  general  sense,  whether  prose  or 
"  verse — we  shall  have  no  common  name  for 
•'  Epic  imitations  in  prose;  and,  if  we  do  not 
"  allow  it  to  imitate  in  either  one  or  more  species 
of  metre,  we  shall  have  no  common  name  for 
the  same  kind  of  imitation  in  Elegiac,  or  otheF 


it 


ti 


**  verse." 


The  great  advantage  of  this  sense  of  Xoyoi^ 
tJ/Aoif  is,  that,  while  it  leaves  in  full  force  that 
explanation  of  the  whole  passage,  which  I  have 
followed,  it  removes,  at  the  same  time,  or  at  least 
considerably  weakens,  what  has  always  struck  me 
as  one  of  the  strongest  objections  to  it.  Nothing 
appears  to  me  more  improbable,  than,  that 
Aristotle,  advancing  a  doctrine  so  new,  and  so 
repugnant  to  the  prevailing  ideas  of  his  own  times, 
as,  that  a  species  of  Poetry  might  subsist  without 
verse,  should  chuse  to  present  this  novelty  in  the 
most  offensive  way,  by  beginning  at  once,  and 
without  any  management,  with  the  mention  of 
prose :  that  he  should  say — "  The  Epic  Poem 
"  injitates  by  prose  alone,  or,  by  va^se,''  If  by 
},oyo^g  \J/iAo»f  he  had  meant  prose,  as  Dacier  and 

•  others 


9  See  the  quotation  from  Mr.  Harris,  p.  108-9. 


(( 


« 


NOTES.  239 

others  contend,  would  he  not  naturally  —  one 
might  say,  unavoidably  —  have  reserved  those 
words  for  the  last  in  the  period  ?  Would  not  the 
order,  in  short,  have  been  this  ? — "  by  verse  alone; 
and  that  either  of  a  single  kind,  or  mixed — or 
even  by  prose,''  As  I  have  rendered  the  words, 
prose  is  not  moitioned  at  all,  but  implied  only  in 
the  general  expression  of,  words ;  as  it  is,  equally, 
in  his  first  enumeration  of  the  means  of  imita- 

tlOU  —  fv  poOjUu:  xat    AOm*   x*»   d^fAovix,      At  the 

worst,  the  idea  of  prose  is  not,  as  in  the  othe^' 
version,  presented  before  that  of  verse. 

With  respect  to  what  I  have  said  of  the  novelty 
of  the  philosopher's  doctrine,  and  its  remoteness 
from  the  com.mon  ideas  of  tlie  antients  concerning 
the  importance  of  metre  to  Poetry,  I  may  refer 
even  to  his  own  way  of  speaking,  in  general,  upon 
that  subject.     In  his  Rhetoric,  for  example,  he 

says — ^v^fMov  hi  Ixj^^v  ray  Xoyov^  Msr^ou  Ji,  ^u* 
noiHMA  TAP  E2TAI.— "  In  prose-composition 
*'  there  should  be  rhythm,  but  not  metre— for 
"  then  it  will  be  a  Poem**."  The  reader  may 
also  be  not  displeased  to  see  what  Isocrates 
thought  of  the  importance  .«f  verse,  in  a  passage, 
which  I  have  given  in  note  2^9,  respecting  the 
privileges  and  advantages  of  Poetry. — Plato  goes 
so  far,  as  to  compare  Poetry,  when  reduced  to 
prose,  to  a  face,  which,  having  no  solid  beauty  of 

•   •  form 


*  Rhet,  Hbt  iii,  cap^  viii,  p.  591.  Ed,  DuvaU 


240  NOTES. 

form  and  symmetry,  has  lost  its  only  charm,  when 
the  bloom  of  youth,  and  dehcacy  of  complexion, 
have  deserted  it'.  But  the  zeal  of  Plato  for 
depreciating  Poetry  is  well  known.  He  would, 
probably,  have  approved  the  indignation  of  one 
of  the  Fathers,  who  called  it  "  the  Devil's  wine." 
It  must  be  confessed,  how^ever,  that  he  has  poured 
a  great  deal  of  this  wine  into  his  own  writings ; 
and  were  they  to  be  reduced  to  plain  prose,  and 
stripped  of  that  dy^oi; — that  bloom  and  colouring 
of  poetic  diction,  and  poetic  fancy,  by  which  they 
are  so  distinguished,  I  should  be  in  some  pain  for 
the  appearance  they  would  make. 

But,  to  return  : — After  all  that  is  to  be  said  in 
favour  of  that  interpretation,  which,  on  the  whole, 
I  have  thought  it  best  to  follow,  I  must  end  this 
note,  as  I  began  it,  by  declaring  my  conviction 
of  the  imperfect  condition  of  the  original,  and 
confessing  my  doubt,  whether  the  true  meaning 

of 


»  ...  lojjtt  [sc.  Ttf  Twv  noiriTwv,  yufA.vci)9£vra  yt  tuv  mi 
fAUffiHTii  XPHMATUN,  alna  i(p  auruv  ^^yo^tfva,]  roi^  twv 
*XlPAinN  'K^cxTUTToig,  KAAHN  AE  MH,  ota  yivtrau  Ihiv, 
erav  aura  to  AN0O2  's^o'^Tpri.-^Rep.x.  p.6oi.  Ed,  Serrani. 

This  is  quoted  by  Aristode,  Rhet.  iii.  cap,'i\.  p.  588. 

Duval,— 'In  Dr.  Beattie's  Essay  on  Poetry,  &c.  Part  II. 
fh,  ii.  it  is,  by  mistake,  attributed  to  Demosthenes.  Nor 
is  the  meaning  of  the  passage  there  fully  given.  Plato 
does  not  content  himself  with  saying,  that  "  versification 
"  is  to  Poetry,  what  bloom  is  to  the  human  countenance." 
He  says,  that  versification  is  to  Poetry,  what  bloom  li 
to  a  face,  t^at  /las  no  beauty  but  bloom* 


NOTES.  241 

of  Aristotle,  in  this  passage,  has  yet  been,  or  ever 
will  be,  discovered. 


NOTE   6. 

P.  103.     The   Mimes   of   Sophron  and 

XeNARCHUS,  and  the  SOCRATIC  DIALOGUES. 

Had  Aristotle  proposed  only  to  extend  the 
term  'EvQwonx  to  all  imitations  of  the  narrative 
kind,  whether  in  verse  or  prose,  whether  serious 
or  comic,  this,  to  a  reader  who  should  enter 
thoroughly  into  his  ideas  of  Poetry,  would  not, 
perhaps,  appear  extraordinary.  It  would  be 
only  classing  the  different  forms  of  Poetry,  as  one 
might  expect  him  to  class  them,  according  to 
what  he  himself  conceived  to  be  the  chief  and 
most  characteristic  difference  of  their  imitations. 
But  here,  we  find  the  name  applied  to  composi- 
tions of  a  character  strikingly  different — to  Mimes, 
and  Dialogues  ;  for  it  is  indeed,  as  Dacier  says, 
a  very  obvious  question,  and  one  which  cannot 
but  have  occurred  to  every  reader — "  les  Dia- 
"  logues  ne  resemblent-ils  pas  plutot  au  Poeme 
"  Dramatique,  qu'  au  Poenie  Epique  ?" — An 
embarrassing  question,  and  which,  being  at  all 
events  to  be  answered,  he  answers  immediately, 
and  roundly — "  Non,  sans  doute."  And  why? — 
Because,  says  he,  **  the  drama  imitates  by  words 
"  and  music,  the  Epic  Poem,  by  words  onlyj^ 
But,  to  apply  the  expression  of  the  philosopher 

V  0  L.  I.  ft  ^ 


241  NOTE    S. 

to  this  critic  —  TrXfJa?  £u,  Xvti  xaxwf*.  This  is 
much  the  same  thing  as  if  one  should  deny,  that 
two  men,  of  form  and  features  strikingly  similar, 
resembled  each  other,  merely  because  their  coats 
were  of  different  colours  ;  or,  to  come  still  nearer 
to  the  case,  if  one  should  assert  that  one  of  these 
men  bore  a  greater  resemblance  to  a  third,  with 
whom  he  chanced  to  agree  in  the  single  circum- 
stance of  not  wearing  a  wig.  Is  it  probable,  that 
Aristotle,  in  classing  and  denominating  a.  principal 
species  of  Poetry,  should  be  guided  by  such  a 
circumstance  as  the  mere  absence  of  music? 
when  even  metre  he  regards  as  not  essential,  and 
speaks  of  it  as  one  of  the  i^vtriAocra,  of  Poetic 
language**.  He  allows,  indeed,  that  music  is  the 
most  pleasurable  of  the  in^va-fAxrocj  or  seasoyiings^ 
of  Tragedy ' ;  but,  that  he  regarded  it  as  less 
essential  than  metre,  is  evident  from  the  place 
which  he  assigns  it  in  his  arrangement  of  the  six 
parts  of  Tragedy  according  to  the  order  of  their 
importance ;  for  he  there  places  it  next  before 
the  Oj/if,  or  DecoratioHy  which  he  pronounces 
to  be,  of  all  the  parts,  "  the  most  foreign  to  the 
**  Poet's  art:"  ixiroc  oIkhov  m^  7roi»T<x»if**. — On 
the  other  hand,  the  circumstance  of  Narration  in 

the 


*  Cap,  xviii, 

*  —  ^£y«  3£  'HAT2MEN0N  xoyov,  tov  exona  puOfMv 
MM  apiMviav  HOI  METPON.  Cap,  vi, 

*  —  fAVfiTOv  T«v  n3v(rfwrr«y.     Ibid, 

•»  Ibid.  % 


NOTES.  243 

the  person  of  the  Poet  he  every  where  seems  to 
make  an  essential  mark  of  distinction  between  the 
JEpic  and  the  Dramatic  Poem'':  so  that,  in  order 
to  avoid  making  him  absoluteiv  inconsistent  with 
himself,  we  must  be  obliged  to  suppose,  uith  the 
commentators,  that  he  uses  the  word  'Exorroua  in 
two  senses ;  here,  in  its  general  and  etymological 
sense,  that  of  imitating,  or  making,  by  xcords\ 
and  every  wherc  else  in  the  common  and  limited 
sense  of  narrative  imitation^.  The  first  of  these 
must  be  considered  as  a  mere  proposal:  we  must 
understand  Aristotle  to  say  no' more  than  this — 
that  some  common  term,  to  include  qfl  compositioiis 
imitating  by  words  only,  was  wanted,  and  that 
the  term  Epopceia,  was  best  ada[)ted  to  that  pur- 
pose. In  the  rest  of  his  treatise  he  conforms  to 
the  established  ideas  and  language. — Tliis,  how- 
ever, is  by  no  means  satisfactory.^  It  still  remains, 
I  confess,  no  inconsiderable  difficulty  with  me,  to 
conceive,  that  Aristotle  should,  by  applying  the 
term  ETroTroua  to  all  iinitative  xcriting,  whether  of 
a  narrative  or  dramatic  form,  without  music,  give 
it  an  extension  inconsistent,  as  it  seems,  w  ith  his 

oxvn 

*  See  Cap.v. — Gt^.  xxiii.  initio.  So  Cap,\x\v.    iv  Sg 
Tn   ETTOTToiux,   3ia   TO   AIHrHSIN    iivai.    &c. — and   ibid. 
r\  ^vt\yy\iMt,'x\xy\  /Mfji.n(ng,  is  equivalent  to  h  ETTowomTiKv  (ji.ifji,nJii,' 
in  Cap,  xxvi. 

^  See  the  note  of  Heinsius. 

*  As  in  the  passages  just  referred  to,  Note  *. 

R  2 


J44  NOTES. 

(ywn  principles,  and  confounding  those  distinctions, 
which,  in  his  oxvn  view,  were  the  most  essential. 
If  he  had  meant  so  to  apply  the  term  in  the 
passage  before  us,  lie  would,  surely,  have  been 
more  explicit,  and,  where,  after  this  passage,  he 
Jint  maitioned  the  Epopaia  in  the  usual  sense, 
would  have  added  some  words  of  limitation  and 
distinction  to  prevent  confusion.  But  this  he  has 
not  done.  Tliough  evidently  speaking  of  thu 
heroic  and  narrative  Epic,  he  calls  it  only, 
%  ETTOTToVi*;  as  if  no  other  application  of  the 
word  had  been  mentioned. 

Of  the  Mimes  of  Sothron  we  can  acquire 
but  a  very  imperfect  idea,  either  from  what  is 
said  of  them  in  antient  authors,  or  from  the 
fragments  that  are  preseivcd  in  Athenaeus,  De- 
metrius, and  otliers.  It  has  even  been  long  dis- 
puted  among  the  learned,  whether  they  were 
prose  or  verse;  and,  at  last,  it  seems  to  be 
settled,  that  they  were  neither;*  a  kind  of  com- 
promise comfortable  enough  to  the  disputants  on 
both  sides ;  for  if  the  fragments  are  somethin<y 
between  verse  and  prose,  they,  who  assert  them 
to  be  either,   are  somethinor  between  vwhi  and 

CD  ^ 

wrong.  I  shall  not  enter  into  this  discussion ; 
but  refer  tlie  reader  to  the  remarks  of  the 
icarned  Valckenaer  on  the  argument  of  the 
AJwvia^«(rai  of  Thcocritus ;  where  he  will  find 
some  curious  and  uncommon  information  upon 
4  this 


\ 


NOTES.  245 

this  subject  \  That  these  compositions,  however, 
were  either  a  species  of  the  drama,  or,  at  least, 
dialot»ues  in  tlie  dramatic  form,  there  seems  to 
be  no  doubt'.  Dacier,  indeed,  asserts,  that  they 
were,  like  the  Epic  Poem,  **  uae  imitdtlon  com- 
*'  posee  de  narration  et  diction/'  Eut  he  pro- 
duces no  proof  of  this,  nor  do  I  know  of  any. — 
I  must  tarther  observe,  that,  supposing  what  is 
related,  of  the  fondness  of  Plato  for  the  Mimes  of 
Sophron,  and  of  their  having  been  his  model  in 
the  fxifxriTig  TT^ojuTTuy  of  his  o.vn  dialogues '',  to  be 
true,  it  may  reasonably  be  inferred,  that  we 
out^ht  bv  no  means  to  confound  them  with  the 
Roman  Mimes,  or  to  a|)piy  to  them,  as  is  too 
often  done,  all  that  is  said  of  the  latter  by 
Diomedes,  and  other  writers  of  that  age.  Such 
licentious  and  obscene  trash  would  not,  surely, 
have  been  foun  1  under  the  pillow  of  the  moral 
and  reforming  Plato;  and  that,  oAoy  l-m  ynox^ 
iStji,  anl,  as  some  assert,  even  in  the  hour  of 
death'.    In  saying  this,  howevtr,  I  do  not  forget, 

that 


^  ThcQcriU  Dtcem  Eidyllia,  Lug,  Bat,  1773,  ^^^» 
particularly,  p.  200. 

*  See  Cusaubon,  de  Sat,  Poes.  cap.  ili.  p.  1 1 5,  1 16,  and 
the  passage  of  Plutarch  to  which  he  re*"cvs,  Sympos.  Prob, 
lib,  vii.  Prob  vih.  p.  1268.  Ea.  H.  St.  And,  in  his  irea- 
tise  HoTi^a,  ruv  l^uuv   k  t.  oA.  p.  179^' 

^  See  Valckcuaer*s  Tneoc.  p.  194. 

'  Sophron,  miiuorum  quidcm  scrlptor,  sed  quern 
Plato  adeo  probavit,  ut  suppositos  rapiti  iibros  ejus,  cum 
morerctur,  hiibuisse  tradatur.    QuintiL  i.  10, 

K3 


246  NOTES. 

that  delicacy  is  not  to  be  sought  for  even  in  the 
strictest  morality  of  antient  times.  For  the  best 
idea  that  can  now  be  formed  of  the  manner  of 
this  famous  mimographer,  we  must  have  recourse, 
I  believe,  to  the  fifteentli  Idyl  of  Theocritus "", 
which,  as  we  are  informed  in  the  MS.  argument 
found  by  Ruhnkenius  in  the  royal  library  at 
Paris,  is  an  imitation  of  a  Mime  of  Sophron 
upon  a  similar  subject".  A  more  exact  piece  of 
natural  delineation  cannot  be  imagined.  It  is 
not,  indeed,  la  btlle  nature ;  it  is  tlie  nature  of 
common  and  simple,  or,  as  some  aifect  to  call  it, 
of  low,  life ;  but  copied  with  so  close  and  faithful 
a  pencil,  that,  to  every  reader  accustomed,  in  any 
de<^ree,  to  observe  the  manners  of  mankind  in 
general,  and  whose  taste  is  not  perverted  by 
affectation,  or  fettered  by  rule,  the  truth  and 
reality  of  the  imitation  will,  I  believe,  amply 
compensate  for  the  want  of  dignity  in  the  thing 
imitated.  'To  those  who  receive  no  pleasure  from 
this  source,  I  would  rather  recommend  the  belle 
nature  of  Pope's  Pastorals,  or  the  still  jiner 
nature  of  Fontenelles. — I  would  only  observe 
farther,  that  this  imitation  of  Sophron  is  in 
the  strict  dramatic  form ;    and  that  it  contains 

notliing 


"  The    ^u^axuffiau,   >j  A^uvta^aam,     The    Syracusian 
women,  or,  the  women  at  the  festival  of  Adonis. 

"  Tla^ETry^aa-e  h  TroiTDfjuxriov  U  tojv  ^ra^a  Ha^oovt  kvjjkBvm  TU 
Mfjua.  Fa/cken,  Decern  Eid,  Theoc,  p.  1 88. 


'      NOTES.  147 

nothing   in  the   least  degree  indecent,   or  dis- 
gusting. 

6f  the  AOroi  2I1KPATIK0I,  by  which,  un- 
doubtedly, Aristotle  meant  chiefly,  if  not  solely, 
the  Dialogues  of  Plato,  I  shall  only  observe, 
that  they  have  all,  in  a  high  degree,  the  dramatic 
and  imitative  spirit,  and  that  by  far  the  greater 
part  of  them  are  in  the  unmixed  dramatic  form**, 
so  as  to  admit  of  representation  ;  and  it,  accord- 
ingly, appears  from  Plutarch,  that  those  of  the 
lighter  cast  among  them  were  sometimes  per- 
formed by  boys,  as  an  entertainment,  at  the 
Symposia  of  the  Romans  in  his  time  ^ 


NOTE  7 


P.  103.  Connecting  the  Poetry,  or 
Making,  with  the  metre. 

—  SyvaTTTovTff   tw  [abt^'J  ro    ttoihv, — ISot,  "  on 

"  applique  au  vers  seul  I'idee  quon  a  de  la 
Pocsic,''  as  M.  Batteux  renders  it,  but,  as  it  is 
translated  by  Piccolomini,  with  his  usual  exact- 
ness— "  congiugnendo  il  verbo,  liainv,  [Poieiny 
"  cio  e  forCy]  con  la  (jualita  del  metro^' — I  un- 
derstand Aristotle's  expression  to  mean,  not  the 

connection 

**  We  have,  I  think,  thirty-two  dialogues  of  Plato, 
taking  those  De  Republican  and  De  Lcgibus^  which  are 
now  divided  into  books,  as  each  one  dialogue.  Of  these 
thirty-two,, only  six  are  in  the  narrative  form. 

^  l^lutarchi  Sympos.  Prob.  lib.  vii.  Prob.  viii. 

R4 


248  NOTES 

connection  of  the  general  idea  of  Poetry  with 
that  of  Verse,  though  this  indeed  be  implied; 
but,  the  junction  of  the  zvord,  no^t^v,  with  the 
name  of  some  particular  metre,  in  tlie  com- 
pound words,  EAfyiiOTTotoi,  Evo^7^o^o^^  and  the  Hke. 


NOTE    8. 

p.  103.  Treatises  of  Medicine  or  na- 
tural Philosophy  in  verse. 

Two  Poems  of  Empedocles — -that  concerning 
Nature,  and  his  Expiations — contained  together, 
according  to  Diog.  Laertius,  Jive  thousand  hexa- 
meters, and  another,  on  the  subject  of  Medicine, 
six  hundred. — tu  fj^iv  ^y  m^i  OTSEXIS  aJrw  x»» 
o(  KaGa^^oi,  iiq  Inn  'rlly^(^i  Ttiyrocxiiryj^T^iocy  0  Se 
IATPIK02    Koyf^j    u;    i-rrri    i^(xy,0(rix    [End  of  the 

Life  of  Eirpedocfes.]  This,  by  the  way,  con- 
firms the  emendation  of  Heinsius — f-ja-ixov,  for 
fj.H(rixoy.  Nothing,  I  believe,  is  known  of  any 
anticnt  Poem  on  the  subject  of  Music. 

The  earliest  philosophy  was  natural  philo- 
sophy, and  the  earliest  vehicle  of  that  philosophy 
was  verse.  Orpheus,  Ilesiod,  Parmenides,  Xeno- 
phanes,  Empedocles,  and  Thales,  are  all  men- 
tioned by  Plutarch  as  poet-philosophers  of  this 
kind.  Pythagoras  is  said  to  have  written  a  Poem 
On  the  Universe,  in  hexameters*.  This  mea- 
sure 


•  Ilffi  TH  *OMt,  iv  i'jT^.a-i,    Diog.  Lactt.  VIII.  7. — And 
see  P/ut,  Ilffi  T8  fAti  xfav  sH^T^atj  &c.  p.  716,  i/.  StepL 


NOTES.  249 

sure  was,  at  least,  suited  to  the  dignity  of  philo- 
sophical speculation.  We  cannot  say  so  much  of 
the  verse  chosen  by  Epicharmus  for  the  vehicle 
of  a  treatise  Concerning  sensible  and  intellectual 
objects — Ilf^i  r(av  otiVOnTwy  xat  votjrwv — part  of  #hich 
is  quoted  by  Diog.  Laertius  in  his  life  of  Plato  ^ 
It  was  written  in  the  Trochaic  tetran)eter,  a 
very  unphilosophical  measure,  if  rightly  charac- 
terized by  Aristotle,  who  gives  it  the  epithets  of 

r^oxi^oy  —  o^'XTiTiy.oy  —  KOPA  AKIKHTEPON  ^  An 
English  reader  would  be  surprised,  on  opening  a 
didactic  and  philosophical  Poem,  to  find  it 
written  in  the  measure  of — "  Jolly  mortalSy  fill 
your  glasses,''  &c. 


NOTE   9. 

P.  103.     Homer  and  Empedocles  have 

NOTHING    IN    COMMON    BUT    THEIR    METRE. 

In  his  book  De  Poetis,  Aristotle  spoke  some- 
what differently.     He  there  said,   as  cited  by 

Diog. 

^   111.10. 

*  Rhet.m,  8.  Poet,  cap.xxiv.  The  word,  /co^^aKiuurt^ov, 
cannot  be  adequately  translated.  *'  A  jiggtsh  measure^* 
would  be  weak,  to  the  force  of  the  original.  The 
Ko^aJ  is  known  to  have  been  a  kind  of  dance,  so  full 
of  buffoonery  and  indecency,  that  Theophrastus  makes 
it  one  of  the  marks  of  his  Projllgate  Man,  that  *'  he  will 
♦*  even  dance  the  Kof3a|,  sober,  and  without  a  mask,*^'^ 
Thcophrasti  Charact*  cap.  vi,  llt^i  Attovoios* 


^50 


NOTES. 


Diog.  Laertius,  '*  that  Empedocles  resembled 
"  Homer  in  the  beauty  of  his  diction  ;  abound- 
"  ing  in  metaphors,  and  making  a  happy  use  of 
"  the  other  embellishments  of  Poetic  languskge  */* 
It  does  not  seem  easy  to  make  this  perfectly  con- 
sistent with  what  he  here  asserts — that  Empedo- 
cles had  nothing  in  common  with  Homer  but  his 
metre.  He  meant ^  I  suppose,  no  more,  than  that 
Empedocles  had  nothing  of  the  true  Poetic  cha- 
racter of  Homer,  his  invention,  imitation^  &c. 
But  he  certainly  has  said  more. 


NOTE    10. 

P.  104.  So,  ALSO,  THOUGH  ANY  ONE 
SHOULD  CHUSE  TO  CONVEY  HIS  IMITATION 
IN    EVERY    KIND    OF    METRE,  &C. 

The  conjecture  of  Heinsius,  who  contended, 
that — UK  rVti  xa*  TTOiijTnv  Tr^oa-xyo^tvTiov — should  be 
read  interrogatively,  I  have  rejected,  because  the 
sense  it  gives  the  passage  appears  to  me  to  be 
trifling.  It  makes  Aristotle  say — **  If  Poets  are 
"  to  be  denominated  from  their  metre,  what 
"  name  is  to  be  given  to  him,  who  writes  a 
"  Poem  in  ail  sorts  of  metre?    You  cannot  call 

"  him 


'OMHPIKOS  0  EfjiTTE^oKXrii,  xai  h.iv(^  ^e^i  rnv  $PA2IN 
ysyove,  fxtrs^o^iK^B-  te  «v,  xai  roii  a>^ii  roig  tts^i  TTOinrucrtv 
imrtvyfjtofft  x^^^H-^^*    Diog,  Laert,  lib.  viii,  57. 


<c 


(( 


ii 


a 


NOTES.  251 

"  him  an  ETroTroi®*,  an  la/^poTroj®*,  &c.  Is  he, 
**  therefore,  not  to  be  called  a  Poet  at  all,  be- 
**  cause  you  cannot  call  him  the  Poet,  or  Maker^ 
"  of  this  or  that  particular  metre?" — But  the 
answer  to  this  would  surely  be  obvious :  *'  We 
cannot,  it  is  true,  call  him  any  one  of  these, 
exclusively ;  we  call  him  all  these ;  he  is  the 
"  Poet  of  every  metre,  in  which  he  composes ; 
and,  in  our  ideas,  the  more  a  Poet,  in  propor- 
tion to  the  number  of  the  different  measures, 
"  of  which  he  shews  himself  a  master." — I  must 
also  remark,  that,  in  this  way  of  understanding 
the  passage,  the  word,  ofxoiui;,  is  not  accounted 
for,  nor  fairly  rendered,  I  think,  either  in  the 
version  of  Heinsius,  or  in  any  of  those  that 
follow  him.  * 

I  have,  also,  rejected  the  reading  of  Victorius 
— 'OT  TTomro  mv  fxifjina-iv ;  because  it  appears  to 
me,  that  the  phrase  will  not  admit  of  the  sense, 
in  which  it  is  rendered,  of  7iot  imitating  at  all, — 
It  is  observed  by  Victorius  himself,  that  the 
phrase,  -Troiuo-Ga*  mv  [AifxrKriv,  is  never  used  by 
Aristotle  as  equivalent  to  fA^fAsiffioa  only,  but 
always  where  he  is  speaking  of  the  7neans, 
or  manner,  by,  or  in,  which,  the  imitation  is 
made.  Thus,  ch,  i. — noiOTNTAI  my  fA^[At^v^y  EN 
PT0Mm  xai  A0rX2I  xat  APMONIAI. — Again— 
AIA  TPIMETPnN  x.  r.  aX.  IIOIOITO  ttjv  /ui/x»j(r«>. 
And,  at  the  end,  EN  *OI2  nOIOTNTAI  rnv 
ai/ATjo-ik — •"  the  different  meajis,    by  which  they 

form 


152  NOTES. 

form  or  execute    their   imitation.'' — Thus,  too, 

C/?.  \\\v.—H  yx^  r^f  EN  AAAX21  TINI  METPX2I 
iixynuacTiXT),  |t>t»/xTj(r»j»  flOIOlTO. — (7?.  vi.  f.N  TOT- 
TOiZ  hi'.  /utAo7roi'»a  x»^  XiJ^n]  IIOIOTNTAI  my 
fA,^[xtc^v.  J50  il)id,  with  a  participle— flPATTON- 
T£2  nOIOTNTAI  rni^  /A»nx»i<r4v— as  in  the  passage 
belore  us  aVavTa  ra  fAST^oc  MIFNTXIN  nOlOITO 
T»i/  lA'fxnc-iy. — The  construction  and  the  scn^e  are 
the  same,  v\hcn  t!ie  same  mode  of  cxprcsbion  is 
applied  to  other  subjects;  as,  cap.  iv. — rot; 
fjLA^nffii^  nOIElTAI  AIA  MIMHIEaS  —  And, 
Bhet.  lib  I  cap.  i.  .sect,  3.  AIA  TXiN  KOINXiN 
nOIEI20AI   raf    7rtr£»?   xa»    ns;   Xoyaq — 1.  C.     **  tO 

"  ar^ue  through  the  medium  of  common  and 
"  popular  truths.^^ — I  do  not  know  of  any 
instance,  in  which  7ro»£»(r9a4  my  fjnfxr\<riy  is  used  in 
any  other  way,  or  put  simply  for  /oii/x£KrSa». 
I  cannot,  for  example,  conceive,  that  Aristotle, 
instead  of,  to  rs  yx^  MIMEII0AI  ffu/x^yTov  toi? 
ak9^«7rotf,  (cap.  iv.)  would  have  written— to  ti 
ya^  nOIEISGAI  MIMHSIN  (tu/x^utov,  ^C.  It 
appears  to  me,  that,  whether  the  phrase  be  used 
positively,  or  negatively,  seme  imitation  is  equally 
ifnj)lied ;     and  this  sentence  — ««   t»?  dn-xvTx   la, 

u£To»  fAiyyvxy  OT  iroioiro   THN  fMtfA.n(riy — I    should 

by  no  means  think  it  accurate  to  translate — **  If 
"  any  one,  mixing  all  sorts  of  metre,  should  not 
"  imitate;— but,  (to  construe  literally  for  the 
sake  of  clearness,)  **  if  any  one  should  not  ?mjke 
"  THE,  (or,  which  is  the  same   thing,    HIS) 

**  imitation 


NOTES.  J53 

•*  imitation  by  mixing  all  sorts  of  metre."  This, 
I  confess,  appears  clearly  to  me  to  be  the  fair 
English  of  that  Greek;  but  as  this  certainly  can- 
not be  the  meaning  of  Aristotle  here,  I  must 
abandon  the  reading  which  gives  it,  and  content 
myself  with  following  that  explanation,  which  is 
encumbered  with  the  fewest  diliiculties*.  The 
sense,  in  this  way,  does  not  materially  difFcT  from 
that,  which  is  given  to  the  j)assage  by  those  who 
adopt  the  reading  of  Victorius.  The  word,  ojtAotw?, 
has  thus  its  proper  force.  So  has,  «x  HAH,  KAI 
gro*»iTuw  ir^o(Ttt,yofi\)rioy.  As  if  Aristotle  had  said — 
Such  a  writer  we  might,  certainly,  on  the  first 
glance,  call,  a  versifier — a  metre-maker  — 
iTTOTTotov,  IxiyuoTroioy,  8cc.  but  we  should  not 
immediately  (HAH),  merely  on  account  of  the 
variety  of  his   versi/icatioUy   allow    him    also 

the  title  of  Poet — KAI  Troinrriy  Tr^ctrxyo^svricy.^* 

I  must,  however,  be  again  permitted  to  declare 
my  doubt,  as  to  the  integrity  of  the  text. — I  have 
here  given,  as  I  have  been  obliged  to  do  in  many 
other  places,  that  sense,  w  hich  appears  to  me  the 
best  that  can  be  dven  to  tb.e  orimnal  as  it  stands ; 
not  tliat,  upon  which  1  can  with  a,ny  ccn/idcnce 
rely,  as  the  clear  meaning  of  the  author. 

*  According  to  the  version  of  Goulsion — *'  Similiter 
."  vero  etiam  si  quis  omnia  metrorum  genera  uno  in 
'*  opere  permiscens,  imitationcm  instituerit,  (quemad- 
"  niodum  Chajremon,  &c.)  non  statini  Poetae  titulo, 
**  ob  catmcny  sed  ob  imitationemf  insigniendus/*  See  also 
Castelvetro,  p.  25,  26. 


t( 


n 


<( 


l( 


<< 


»( 


^54 


# 


NOTES. 


NOTE    11. 


P.  104.  As  Ch^remon  has  done  in 
HIS  Centaur. 

From  some  curious  fragments  of  this  Poet 
preserved,  or,  rather,  half-preserved,  in  Athenseus, 
his  genius  appears  to  have  been  of  a  gay  and 
voluptuous  cast,  and  to  have  delighted  in  minute 
description  of  pleasurable  objects.  In  the  lines 
quoted  by  Athenaeus  from  his  Tragedy  oi  ^neus^ 
which  are  a  description  of  a  group  of  beautiful 
virgins  sporting  by  moon-light,  there  is  certainly 
some  fancy,  and  some  elegance ;  but,  of  that 
kind,  the  effect  of  which  is,  perhaps,  somewhat 
counteracted  by  too  much  appearance  of  affec- 
tation and  research.  And  this  corresponds  with 
the  character  given  of  this  Poet  by  Aristotle, 
in  his  Rhetoric  [lib.  iii.  cap.  xii.]  that  he  was, 
axpiPt)?  wcTTi^  >^oyoy^x<p^;  and  of  that  class 
of  Poets,  whom  he  calls  aj/ayvwrtxoi ;  that  is, 
whose  productions,  as  we  commonly  express  it, 
read  better  than  they  act ;  are  more  adapted  to 
the  closet,  than  to  the  stage.    The  antient  Poets, 


^: 


both  Greek  and  Roman,  were  often,  I  believe, 


lEfdebted,  for  their  descriptive  ideas,  to  Paint- 
ing, or  Sculpture.  This  passage  of  Chaeremon 
is  certainly  very  picturesque,  and  was,  pro- 
bably, suggested  by  some  painting  on  the  same 

subject. 

Athenaeus 


NOTES.  255 

Athenaeus  says  of  this  Poet,  that  he  was  par- 
ticularly fond  of  dwelling  upon  the  description  of 
flowers — iTTiKXTaipo^^  Ivk  ra.  avOtj  * ;  and  cites 
some  lines  of  that  kind  from  his  Tragedies. 

In  his  Centaur,  which  Athenaeus  calls 
i^cifi.Q(,  TToXvixiT^sv,  we  must  understand,  that  even 
the  dialogue  was  in  various  metres;  for  in  the 
choral  parts  this  would  have  been  no  inno- 
vation. 

note  12. 

P.  105.     PoLYGNOTUS — PaUSON — DiONYSIUS. 

Polygnotus  and  Pauson  are  also  mentioned 
by  Aristotle  in  his  8th  book  De  Rep,  cap.  v. 
where,  speaking  of  Painting  witli  a  view  to 
education,  he  says,  that  **  young  men  should 
"  not  be  permitted  to  contemplate  the  works  of 
**  Pauson,  but  those  only  of  Polygnotus,  and 
"  of  other  artists  who  excelled  in  mo?'al  expres- 
"  sion*.'^  It  seems  probable,  from  this  passage, 
that  the  pictures  of  Pauson  were  not  only  of  a 
ludicrous,  but  also  of  a  licentious  cast  To  what 
a  degree  the  abuse  of  this  art  was  carried  in 
Aristotle's  time,  appears  from  another  passage, 

[Rep. 
— ■ —       --  I  III 

*  Athen.  lib.  xiii.  p.  608. 

•  —  Aei  /u)?  Ta  nAT2n-N02  Oea^siv  rit;  veh;,  a»a.  ra 
nOATFNIlTOT,  *  av  zi  T15  aM(^  rm  y^a^im  h  tw» 
&yai^fWTon(Huv  iuv  hQiK^.-^De  Rep.  viii.  5. 


256  NOTES. 

[Rep.  lib,  vii.  cap.  xvii.]  in  which  he  says,  the 
maoistrale  should  suffer  no  '*  Hcentious  and  inde- 
"  cent  paintings  or  statues,"  such  as  would  en- 
danger the  morals  of  youth  :  but  the  exception 
that  follows  is  curious ; — "  Unless^'"  he  adds, 
"  in  the  tempks  of  some  deities  of  that 
"  CHARACTER,  uhosc  legal  and  established  wor- 
"  ship  consists  in  ludicrous  and  wanton  rites \" 

While  I  am  upon  this  subject,  I  cannot  forbear 
adding  a  singular  passage  of  Euripides,  where 
liippolytus,  vindicating  himself,  and  asserting  his 
chastity,  says,  with  a  ndiveti  that,  I  fear,  would 
hardly  be  received  with  decent  gravity  by  a 
modem  audience; — 

Ova  olSa,  nPAHIN  THNAE,  ttXviv  Xoyuj  kXvuv, 

rPAOHI  TE  AETISXIN'  sJJe  ruvrocyocp  tricoTreiv 

njoflu/^®^  elp,  nAPGENON  YTXHN  Ixc^v. 

HippoL  V.  1003. 

I  am  a  stranger  to  the  couch  of  love  ; 

Nor  know  I  of  its  rites  more  than  the  tale 

May  have  informed  me,  or  the  Painters  pencil 

Presented  to  mine  eye ;  yet  on  such  picture 

Dwells  not  mine  eye  delighted,  for  my  mind 

Is  as  a  virgin's  pure.    -  -  - 

[Mr.  Potter's  Translation,  v.  1060.] 

The 


nPASEXlN   MIMHIIN-  il  fin  Tra^a  riai  GEOIS  TOiOT- 


NOTES.  257 

The  Pauson  mentioned  by  Aristotle  was  pro- 
bably the  same  painter,  whose  poverty  only  is 
recorded  by  Suidas',  and  of  whose  wit  we  have  a 
curious  specimen  in  iElian  *** 

Of  DiONYsius,  too,  very  little  is  known. 
That  he  excelled  in  natural  representation  and 
exact  resemblance — in  exhibiting  men,  such  as  he 
saw  them,  without  ideal  grace  on  the  one  hand, 
or  exaggerated  deformity  on  the  other — is  known, 
I  believe,  only  from  tliis  passage  of  Aristotle. 
Dacier  says  this  account  is  confirmed  by  jElian ; 
*  but  I  think  he  is  mistaken.  It  appears  to  me, 
that  the  /u.fyf6^  of  which  jElian  speaks,  as  the 
only  difference  between  the  paintings  of  Poly- 
gnotus  and  those  of  Dionysius,  is  literal,  not 
figurative,  magnitude.  He  says  only,  that  the 
pictures  of  Dionysius,  *'  except,  that  they  were 
"  on  a  small  scale^  were  exact  imitations  of 
"  Polygnotus,  in  the  expression  of  passions  and 
**  manners^  the  attitudes  of  the  figures,  the 
**  lightness  and  transparency  of  the  draperies, 
"  and    every  other  circumstance'."     It  is  not 

easy 

^^^■^—     ■■■■■—■—■■  ™      —         ■  ■     ■»    I  »         ■  —.  _    ^i^—^p— i^^^— ■—  ■  ■■Ni  ■— ^i^^ 

^  llau(ruv^  TrraxoTE^Q",  was  proverbial.  Sulfas.  And 
see  ArhtQph,  Plut,  602.  Thesmoph.  958.  Jcharn.  854. 

^  Lib.  xiv.  cap.  xv. — And  see  Dacier's  note  on  the 
passage  of  Aristotle. 

1012  t^ya*:iro  ra  a^a'  to,  h  T»  A/ow/ais,  IlAHN  TOT 

MEFEQOTX,    rnv   tu    Ylorvyvwxn   fix'^ytv   ifxifjutro   tt;  Tn» 

VOL.  I.  S  ax^i^gioff 


158  NOTES. 

easy  to  see  how  Dionysius  could  copy  so  exactly, 
tU  ax^*(3£*av,  the  expression^  and  the  forms,  ctv 
attitudes^  of  Polygnotus,  without  copying,  at  the 
same  time,  his  greatness  of  manner,  and  his  im- 
provement of  that  nature  which  he  imitated ;  for 
these  seem  entirely  to  depend  upon  those  two 
circumstances,  the  expression  of  the  countenance, 
and  the  airs  and  attitudes  of  the  figures  ^ 

It  seems,  therefore,  doubtful,  whether  Aristotle 
and  iElian  speak  of  the  same  person.  Thei'e 
-must,  in  all  probability,  have  been  more  painters 
than  one,  of  that  name;  which  was  so  com^ 
mon,  that  the  writers  so  called,  alone,  furnished 
Meursius  with  matter  for  a  whole  book. — The 

pictures 


A£^TOTUTjfj,  xai  TO.  ^iOiTTu, — jEltan.  iv.  3.  If  the  sense  of 
the  whole  passage  left  room  for  doubt  as  to  the  sense  of 
the  word  /Ltrysfi®-,  it  would,  I  think,. be  sufficiently  fixed 
by  what  follows — iv  TEAEI012.  i.  e.  ^wj/fi  i/^/ttro,  as 
rightly  rendered  by  Perizonius ;  in  large  figures, — at 
large  as  life,  &c.  Dacier's  "  visoit  a  la  perfection y"*  is 
nothing  to  the  purpose. 


'  "  The  painter  has  no  other  means  of  giving  an 
iJea  of  the  dignity  of  the  mind,  but  by  that  external 
appearance  which  grandeur  of  thought  does  generally, 
though  not  always,  impress  on  the  countenance  \  and 
by  that  correspondence  of  figure  to  sentiment  and 
situation,  which  all  men  wish,  but  cannot  command." 
•—Sir  Jos.  Reynolds^  Disc,  on  Painting,  p.  1 1  x. 


NOTES.  259 

pictures  of  Dionysius  the  Colophonian  are  men- 
tioned by  Plutarch*  as  being  painted  with  con- 
sid^aole  strength  of  pencil,  [ — \<rx^v  I^outx  xai 
rtvov,]  but  in  a  manner  which  appeared  forced  and 
laboured,  [£)cj3fp*a(rjtAEvoi/,]  and  which  he  opposes 
to  the  freedom  and  facility  of  Nicomachus,  who 
seems  to  have  been  the  Fd  Presto  of  the  antient 
painters  \  Tiiis  fault,  so  likely  to  be  that  of  the 
artist  w!te  aims  at  an  exact  and  scrupulous  re- 
semblance of  the  nature  that  is  before  his  eyes, 
may,  perhaps,  afford  some  presumption,  that 
Plutarch  and  Aristotle  speak  of  the  same  painter. 
What  Aristotle  says  of  these  three  styles  of 
picturesque  imitaton,  is  easily  applied  to  modern 
times.  The  productions,  indeed,  of  these  antient 
artists,  were  perishable  and  of  short  duration ; — 
*'  At  gemis  immortale  manet:"  these  specific 
characters  have  subsisted,  and  probably  will 
subsist,  in  every  period  of  the  art.  For  the  name 
of  Polygnotus,  it  is  obvious  enough  to  substi- 
tute that  of  Raphael,  or  other  masters  of  the 
higher  Italian  schools.  **  When  a  man,"  says 
Mr.  Richardson,  with  that  simplicity  of  enthusi- 
asm, which  gives  so  amusing  a  singularity  to  his 

writings, 


*  Life  of  Timolcon — vol.  i.  p.  46 !•    Hen.  Steph, 

^  Luca  Giordano  was  called,  Luca  Fa  Presto,  Pliny 
says  of  Nicomachus — «  Nee  fuit  alius  in  ea  arie 
'velociorr — Lib,  xxxv.  cap,  x. 

S  2 


i6o  NOTES. 

writings  * — "  When  a  man  enters  into  that  awful 
"  gallery  at  Hampton-court'',  he  finds  himself 
^*  amongst  a  sort  of  people  superior  to  xvhat  he 
*y  has  ever  seen,  and  very  probably  to  what  tliose 
"  really  were  ^"  This  is  exactly  the  j3iATiov«f  i 
xa6'  11/Aaff  of  Aristotle.  *'  Michael  Angelo,"  says 
the  same  author,  *'  no  where  saw  such  living 
"  figures  as  he  cut  in  marble." — The  Flemish 
and  Dutch  schools  will  supply  plenty  of  substi- 
tutes for  the  Dioni/sii  of  antient  painting — those, 
who,  like  Protogenes,  *'  in  picturi  verum  esse, 
"  non  verisimile,  volunt".'*  Rembrandt  must 
occur  to  every  body.  Even  Rubens  "  took  his 
"  figures  too  mnohfrom  the  people  before  him.^ 
[Sir  Jos,  Reynolds'' s  Disc,  p.  133.] 

As  for  the  Panso?JSy  tlie  buffoons  of  the  art, 
they  are  to  be  seen  in  the  windows  of  every 
print-shop.  We  must  not,  however,  confound 
with  these  "  Tom  Browns  of  the  mob,"  as  Mr. 

Walpole 


*  See  Mr.  Walpole*s  just  apology  for  the  singularities 
of  Richardson's  style,  and  just  censure  of  those,  who 
jaw  nothing,  in  that  sensible  and  original  writer,  but  an 
object  of  derision. — Anecdotes  of  Paintings 

^  Where  the  Cartoons  then  were. 

*  Theory  of  Paintings  p.  96.  Ed.  l^J^' 

"  Plin.  lib.  XXXV.  <af.  x.     See   his   account  of  the 
laboriousness  of  that  painter. — See  also  jElian.  Far. 
Hist,  lib.  xii.  cap,  xVu   and  Plui,   in  Demet.  p.  1646 
Ed,  H.  S. 


NOTES.  a6i 

Walpole  calls  them",  the  moral  humour  of 
Hogarth,  or  the  sportive,  but  harmless,  exagge- 
rations of  Mr.  Bunbury.  Hogarth,  -  indeed,  in 
general,  and  in  his  greatest  works,  seems  rather 
to  belong  to  the  highest  class  of  the  exact  imi- 
tators of  vulgar  nature — rm  <>ATAf2N.  His 
Country-dance,  however,  may  be  mentioned  as 
an  example,  and  an  admirable  one,  of  exagge- 
rated comic  imitation,  in  which  men  are  made, 
in  some  degree  at  least,."  worse  than  they  are" — 
XEIPOTS  fixajf. — And  if  any  man  can  look  at 
this  print,  or  at  the  Family-piece,  the  Coffee-house 
Patriots,  or  the  Long  Story,  of  Mr.  Bunbury, 
without  feeling  a  high  degree  of  that  pleasure 
which  arises  from  the  perception  of  strong 
humour,  he  must,  I  think,  be  still  more  un- 
provided with  a  sense  of  the  ridiculous,  than 
even  that  Crassus,  who  is  recorded  to  have 
laughed  once^  though  once  only,  in  his  life**. 


NOTE    13. 
P.  105.    With  the  music  of  the  flute 

AND    OF    THE    LYBE.    -    -   -  . 

Thus  Plato,  in  the  very  language  of  Aristotle, 
fxifji.nfji.XTa,  BEATIONaN  xai  XEIPONX2N  ANOPa- 

nxiN.     [De  Ixg.  vii.   p.  798.  D.]    A    modern 
*  reader, 

"  Artec,  of  Painting  y  vol,  iv.  p,  1 49. 
f  Gc,  dc  Fin,  v.  30. 

S3 


xSi  N;   O    T    E    S. 

reader,  that  is,  a  person  who  reads  an  antient 
author  with  modern  ideas,  might  be  inclined  to 
ask,  how  men  are  to  be  represented  as  better,  or. 
w  orse,  than  they  are,  or  how,  indeed,  represented 
at  all,  in  a  harpsichord  lesson,  or  a  solo  for  a 
German  flute  ?  But  the  same  reader,  supposing 
him  in  any  degree  conversant  with  music,  would, 
surely  be  at  no  loss  to  conceive,  that  it  admits  of 
the  difference  of  serious  and  comic  expression; 
and  admits  of  it  in  various  degrees,  from  the. 
highest  elevation  and  dignity  of  style,  down  ta 
the  coarse  and  vulgar  jollity  of  the  gavot,  or  the. 
hornpipe.  Now  the  meaning  of  Aristotle,  put 
into  modem  musical  language,  amounts,  1  appre- 
hend, to  no  more  than  that.  Suppose,  then,  the 
music,  in  these  ditferent  styles,  td  be  accompanied 
by  words,  relating  the  actions,  or  imitating  the 
speech,  of  low,  or  elevated  characters ;  we  might 
say,  that  the  music  was  expressive  of  such 
actions,  or  characters  ;  the  antk^its  would  have 
said,  that  it  imitated  them.  On  the  contrary, 
suppose  this  music  merely  instrumental,  we 
should,  in  general,  only  say,  that  it  was  grand, 
and  sublime,  or  comic,  mean,  vulgar,  &c.  But 
the  antients,  from  the  close,  and  almost  insepa- 
rable connection  of  their  Music  w  ith  Poetry,  and 
particularly  with  the  most  imitative  sort  of  Poetry, 
the  Dramatic  P;  and  partly,  also,  from  the  nature 

^         of 


F  Diss.il.  p.  75,  &c. 


N»    O    T    E    S.  {163 

of  their  Music  itself**,  would,  in  thi3  case  like- 
wise, have  retained  much  the  same  language,  and 
would  have  considered  this  Music  as  imitative, 
of  tjie  manners  and  passions  of  exalted,  or 
vulgar  characters,  or  even  as  representing  those 
characters  themselves. — But  the  different  ideas, 
or  rather,  the  different  language,  of  the  antients^ 
and  the  moderns  on  this  subject,  I  have  con- 
sidered more  fully,  and  endeavoured  to  account 
for,  in  the  Second  Dissertation, 


NOTE    14. 
P.  105.     Cleophon,  as  they  are.— -r 

It  may  be  worth  while  to  remark,  that  the 
character  Aristotle  gives  of  the  diction  of  Cleo- 
phon* — that  it  was  of  the  common  and  familiar 
kind,  without  Poetic  elevation — corresponds  with 
the  account  here  given  of  the  general  object  of 
his  Poetry,  the  exact  delineation  of.  common 
nature  and  common  life.  He  who  means  to 
represent  meii  as  they  are^  will  also,  of  course, 
represent  their  language  nearly  as  it  is. 

The  only  Poet  of  this  name,  of  whom,  I 
believe,  any  account  is  given,  is  recorded  as  a 
Tragic  Poet**:  but  Aristotle  undoubtedly  alludes 

here 


^  Diss.  II.  p.  76. 

»  Part  ll.  Sect.  26.    Of  the  Orig.  cap.  xxii. 
*>  Suii/as  V.  Cleophon.    He  gives  the  names  of  some- 
of  his  Tragedies. 

S4"^ 


a64         -  NOTES. 

here  to  a  Poem  of  the  narrative  kind.  In  another 
part,  of  his  works  he  Mentions  a  Poem  of  Cleo- 
phon,  called  Mandrabulus'.  From  the  pro- 
verbial expression  —  iV*  Mak<r^a|3«Xjf  x^fn  to 
jr^otyiAot  ("  worse  and  worse,  like  the  affairs  of 
Mandrabulus" — )  in  Lucian**,  and  the  account 
of  its  origin  in  Suidas,  and  Ilesychius^  it  seems 
very  improbable  that  the  Poem  was  a  Tragedy. 
We  may  rather  conclude  it  to  have  been  of  a 
comic  cast ;  and  it  seems  no  unreasonable  con- 
jecture, to  suppose,  that  it  might  be  of  the 
narrative  kind ;  modelled,  perhaps,  in  some  re- 
spects, upon  the  Margites  of  Homer.  At 
least,  the  two  heroes  seem  to  have  been  of 
kindred  characters. 


KOTE  15. 

P.  105.      HeGEMON INVENTOR     OF 

PARODIES.  .  . 

See  Athenffius,  p.  698,  690,  and  406,  407. 
And  P'abric.  Bibiioth.  6>.  lib.ii.  cap.  vii.  —  Tbf5 
Athenians^  were  delighted  wiili  this  sort  of  fun— - 
of  all  expedients  to  raise  a  laugh,  the  cheapest, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  the  most  infallible, 
IIoMER  was  the  great  and  inexhaustible  resource 

of 


«  De  Hoph.  Blench,  cap.  xv.  v  here  we  should,  I  sup- 
pptc,  for  M^3jfoi3H>«,  read,  Ma»Jf  A^¥?^. 
*  De  Ma  cede  conduct  >  478.  Ed,  BciudicU 


NOTES.  '         tts 

of  these  Parodists.  The  best  and  most  consi- 
derable specimen  remaining,  of  this  kind  of  Poem, 
seems  to  be  the  Homeric  description  of  an  Attic 
supper  by  Matron^  a  great  Parodist,  and  a  great 
eater,  in  Alhenaeus,  lib.iv.  cap.  v.  Isaac  Casaubon 
calls  it,  "  Carmen  ingeniosum,  et  leporis  ac  ve- 
**  nustatis  plenissimum." — The  first  three  lines 
may  serve  as  a  specimen  : — 

TToXXa*, 
'a  SevoKXfjg  orfTu^  Iv  A67}votig  csi7rvt(r6v  ^pa^, 
Hx6ov  yuD  %  UKEKTB,  TToXvg  Se  fioi  lo'Trsro  Xi/^©**. 

The  Poem,  it  must  be  confessed,  has  some 
pleasantry,  and  much  dexterity  of  comical  per- 
version. We  cannot  wonder  at  its  effect  upon 
a  people,  who  had  all  Homer  in  their  memo- 
ries. It  b  easy  to  conceive  the  roar  of  the 
Athenian  upper  gallery^  when,  in  the  description 
of  the  cook,  bringing  in  the  supper,  they  heard 
this  line : 
Tea    V    oto(x,    TB(r(rBooc}COVT»    jjLBXetivxt     XTTPAI 

Sometimes  the  Parody  depended  on  a  pun  ;  of 
which  Athenaeus  gives,  with  great  complacence, 

a  curious 


•  Av3fa  fiOi  ewEgre,  Maaa,  woXyr^oTrov,   b(  fiaha   tto^Xoi. 

Horn,  Od,  init. 

*  Hxdov  ya^  H  axti<rt,  TToyjg  3e  /uoi  Bcnrero  >u^.        Horn, 

Horn,  in  Catal,  fqsiim. 


a66  NOTES. 

a  curious  example,  in  a  scrap  from  a  Parody  of 
JEubceuSj  describing  a  quarrel  between  a  barber 
and  a  potter.  The  barber,  whose  wife,  it  seems, 
the  other  attempts  to  force  from  him,  addresses 
the  potter  in  the  language  of  Nestor** : — 

M^T6     (TV     TOvS\     «yafl®-     'TTSO     gUV,     CCTTOOCIO^O 

KOTPHN, 
MriTS  (TV,  nHAEIAH. 

—  where  the  joke  depends  on  the  allusion  to 
HHAOS,  mud,  or  clay;  and,  probably,  to  the 
trade  of  the  speaker,  in  tiie  word  kh^^u  ;  or, 
perhaps,  to  the  instrument  of  his  art,  which  we 
may  suppose  the  actor  of  the  Parody  to  have 
brandished  at  his  adversary. — But  I  do  not  mean 
to  take  to  myself  the  honour  of  this  illustration 
of  an  Attic  joke.  It  is  to  be  found  in  the  Poetics 
of  J.  C,  Scaliger, — See  A  then,  p,  699.  B. 


NOTE    16.   • 

P.  io6.    The  Deliad. 

The  conjecture  of  Castelvetro,  t»iv  AElA*a^a, 
(which  might  be  rendered,  The  Foitroniad,)  was 
certainly  ingenious,  but,  I  think,  unnecessary. 
Dacicr's  account  is  probably  right ;  and  both  his 
idea,  and  the  common  reading,  seem  to  receive 
some  support  from  the  similar  national  titles  that 
are  preserved  of  other  pieces  of  tliis  Poet ;  such 

as. 


^  See  II.  I.  275,  &c. 


NOTES.  267 

as,  Kf »»Tic,  Aax«v£?,  A»)/xkt«».  —  See  Suidas  and 
FabrkiuSp 

NOTE  17. 

P.    106.       So,     AGAIN,     "WITH     RESPECT     TO 
PITHYRAMBICS    AND    NOMES. 

Thq  expression,  in  this  passage,  is  too  general, 
and  too  little  is  known  of  the  examples  mentioned 
in  it,  to  admit  of  perfipct  satisfaction,  with  respects 
to  any  thing  farther  than  its  general  meaning; 
i.  e.  that  both  Dithyrambic  and  Nomic  Poetry 
admitted  the  same  differences  in  the  objects  of 
their  imitation.  For  so,  1  think,  the  sense  requires 
us  to  understand ;  not,  that  the  imitation  of  heroic 
characters  \^  as  appropriated  to  the  one,  and  that 
of  liaht  characters  to  the  other.  Both  these 
species  of  Poetry  were  hymns;  and  ^hough  the 
Dithyrambic,  or  hyum  to  Bacchus,  might,  indeed, 
from  its  wild  and  free  character,  be  privileged  with, 
a  greater  latitude  and  variety  of  imitation,  yet  I 
know  of  no  authority  that  will  warrant  our  going 
so  far,  as  to  suppose,  that  they  were  essentially 
distinguished  from  each  other  in  this  respect,  like. 
Tragedy  and  Comedy  *. 

Tiie  construction  of  the  Greek  I  understand, 

to  be   this: — fAifAna-cciTO  dv    ng,   Jf    TijiaoOiI^    xai 
4>*AoJfj/©*  [sc.  f/xi|W.T](rai^ToJ  Tle^<rxg  xat  KvKXuTOcg, 

I  am 


*  Yet  so  tiie  last  Ox.  e.t:tor  seenis  to  uncjerstand  :— 
**  Hoc  diffcrre  Nomos  a  DItliyrambis,  quod  ilUs  personai 
**  zrayeff  his  leva  imitarcntur**  P*273. 


^  N    O    T    E    SL 

a  curious  example,  in  a  scrap  from  a  Parody  of 
^nA^^w.S  describing  a  quarrel  between  a  barber 
and  a  potter.     The  barber,  whose  wife,  it  seems, 
the  other  attempts  to  force  from  him,  addressee, 
the  potter  in  tlic  language  of  Nestor" : 

MriTS    crv    TOvS\    aycc6^    ^gj    l^,^    uttoxiobo 
KOTPHN, 

Mnn  (TV,  nHAEIAH. 

—  where  the  joke  depends  on  the  allusion  to 
HHAor,  mud,  or  clay;  and,  probably,  to  the 
trade  of  the  speaker,  in  the  word  K^gnv ;  or, 
perhaps,  to  the  instrument  of  his  art,  which  we 
may  suppose  the  actor  of  the  Parody  to  have 
brandished  at  his  adversary.— But  I  do  not  mean, 
to  take  to  myself  the  honour  of  this  illustration' 
of  an  Attic  joke.  It  is  to  be  found  in  the  Poetics 
of  J.  C.  Scaliger.—See  Athett.  p.  699.  B. 

NOTE    16. 

P.  106.     The  Deliad.--. 

The  conjecture  of  Castelvetro,  t„»  AEJa.^J*, 
(which  might  be  rendered,  The  Poltroniad,)  was 
certainly  ingenious,  but,  I  think,  unnecessary. 
Dacicr's  account  is  probably  right ;  and  both  his 
idea,  and  the  common  reading,  seem  to  receive 
some  support  froju  the  similar  national  titles  that 
are  preserved  of  otlier  pieces  of  tliis  Poet ;  such 


NOTES. 


267 


as. 


t  See  II.  I.  275,  &c. 


1^,  Kftirif,  Aa)t«»£t,  A»)f*»nti.  —  See  Su'tdas  and 
Fabricius, 

VQT'E.  17. 
P.  XO0,     So,   AGAIN,   v{ii:a    respect    to. 

JJITHVRAMBICS    AND    NOME;s. 

Thq  expression,  in  this  passage,  is  too  general, 
a^jitoo  little  i^  known  of  the  examples  mentioned 
in  it,  to  admit  of  perfect  satisfaction,  with  respecti 
to  any  thing  farther  than  its  geqeral  njeaning; 
i.  e.  that  both  Dithyrambic  and  Nomic  Poetry 
a4q[ijtted  the  same  differences  in  the  objects  of 
their  imitation.  For  so,  1  think,  the  sense  requires. 
us  to  understand ;  not,  that  the  imitation  of  heivic 
characters  was  appropriated  to  the  one,  and  that 
of  light  characters  to  the  other.  Both  these 
species  of  Poetiy  were  hymns;  and  ^hough  the 
I^ithyrambic,  or  hymn  to  Bacchus,  might,  indeed, 
from  its  wild  and  free  character,  be  privileged  with, 
a.,  greater  latitude  and  variety  of  imitation,  yet  I 
know  of  no  authority  that  will  warrant  our  going 
so  far,  a5  tp  suppose,  that  they  were  essentially 
distinguished  frpm  each  other  in  this  respect,  like. 
Tragedy  and  Comedy  *. 

Tiie  construction  of  the  Greek  I,  understand: 

to  be   this: — fxifj.n(ronTo  dv    nq,   cJ?    Ti^ofii^    xa* 
$*AoJfk^  [sc.  l^^Jf.ri^ol.vro\  Ht^frxq  y.ixi  Kvx\UTra^. 

I  am 
»■■■ »      ■  I  ■  I II  . 

*  Yet  so  tiie  last  Ox.  etiitor  seems  to  understand  :— 
'*  Hoc  diffcrre  Nemos  a  Dithyrambis,  quod  illis  personal 
^^  ^rayef,  hislcves  imitannturJ**  ^^2']'^, 


\   \ 


/ 


# 


•*•  NOTES. 

I  am  astonished,  that  any  commentators  should 
have  taken  either  of  the  compositions  here  men- 
tiohed  for  dramas ;  an  idea  totally  repugnant  to 
the  plain  sense  of  the  whole  passage,  and  to  the 
evident  purpose  for  %vhich  these  examples  are 
cited.  With  respect  to  the  nif,ra.,  the  passage 
of  Pausanias  may  be  regarded  as  decisive;— 
nuXctin  —  iTwIr©'  T.f«oS«  NOMON,  t«  MiA,f „, 
HEPZAI  *. 

The  Poem  of  Philoxenus  here  meant  must, 
clearly,  have  been  either  a  Nome,  or  a  Dithy- 
rambic  Poem  ;  most  probably,  Uie  latter.     Phi- 
loxenus is  recorded  as  a  Dithyrambic  Poet ;  and 
Aristotle's  illustration  will  be  more  complete,  if 
we  understand  him  to  exemplify  in  each  of  the 
kinds  of  Poetry  in  question.     It  is  by  no  means 
certain,  that  the  Cyclops  of  Philoxenus  mentioned 
by  Athenffius,  iElian,  and  others,  is  the  piece  here 
alluded  to :  and,  if  it  were,  which,  undoubtedly, 
appears  rather  probable,  I  know  of  no  sufficient 
proof  that  it  was  a  Drama,  as  it  has  been  re- 
peatedly (ailed.     If  iElian  is  to  be  regarded,  it 
certainly  was  not ;  for  he  calls  it  /*iAof — a  tern 
appropriated  to  Lyric   Poetry.— t.i,  KTKAXinA 
I'lgycKTXT,,  TMi-  I'auTU  MEAXIN  re  x«AAiro» '. 

I  men- 


I 


^  Paus.  Jrcad,— And  the  Poem  began  with  an  hex- 
ameter verse  which  is  there  quoted.  Yet  Fabric iu«  calU 
it  a  Tragedy. 

f  ^L  Far.  fiist.  Itb.  xii.  cap.  44. 


NOTES,  a&9 

I  mentioned,  in  the  conclusion  of  note  1.  a 
problem  of  Aristotle,  from  which  it  appears,  that 
the  Dithyrambic  Poetry  was  not  originally  imi^ 
tativCy  but  became  so  by  degrees.  It  is  the  1 5th 
of  the  Harmonic  Problems,  Sect.  19.  It  is  there 
said,  that  the  Dithyrambics,  after  they  became 
imitative,  laid  aside  the  antistrophical  form, 
(i. e.  the  division  into  corresponding  stanzas",) 
in  which,  before,  they  had  been  composed '.  And 
the  reason  assigned  for  tliis  is^  that,  originally, 
these  Dithyrambic  hymns  were  performed  by  cho- 
russes  of  gentleinen,  [iXiuSf^oi]  who  could  not  sing 
in  the  style  of  artists,  and  professors :  [aywi^irmw^ 
aViiy :]  the  words  were,  therefore,  set  to  the  sim- 
plest kind  of  melody,  such  as  that,  in  which  the 
same  air  is  repeated  to  similar  stanzas,  as  in  our 
ballads  \  But  afterwards,  it  seems,  the  perform- 
ance 


^  AvTirfo^^— I2H,  •OMOIA.     Hesych. 

*  •^^TEiJoy  fMfjLiTTPtoi  tytfovTOy  HKBTt  ix>i<nv  avrir^opi(f, 
Wf»Tffo»  3f  elxov. 

'  Aio  uTThitre^a  iTTOttsvro  ainoii  ja  fXE^jf  ri  h  avTir^op(^ 
aTAtfv*  a^tdfx^  yaf  en  hcu  m  fXET^Bnat :  i.  e.  (if  i  under- 
stand it  righdy,)  it  consists  of  a  number  of  parts  that 
have  oru  common  measure,  ' 

That,  in  the  Strophe  and  Antistrophe  of  the  Greek 
Ode,  the  same  musical  strain  was  repeated,  is  clear 
from  Dionys.  Hal.  de  Struct.  Orat.  §  19,  roi;  h  ra  fxiUi 
y^oupaciyu.r.cxx.  And  also  from  what  Aristotle,  in  this 
Prob.  says  of  the  Nomes,  which  were  not  antistrophical, 
and  the  melodies  o^  which,  as  well  as  the  words  tj?  jmi^ijctei 
iK^^^  AEI  ETEPA  7Jw/*fKi. 


I 


/ 

// 


\,         * 


%7o  Notes. 

ance  of  these  hymns,  like  tliat  of  the  Nome^,  was 
left  to  professed  musicians,  the  a>Hrai,  or  miters 
of  the  art,  who  contended  wHh  each  other  in  trials 
'trf  skill,  and   who  were,  of  course,  to  exert  all 
their  imitative  powers.  The  symmetry  of  strophe 
and  antistrophe,  and  the  simplicity  of  air  regularly 
repeated,  were  ill  adapted  to  this  purpose, \hich 
required  length,  variety,  and  frequent  changes^ 
of  metre,  melody,  rhythm,  mode,  genus,  &c.  in 
conformity  to  the  various  subjects  of  imitation, 
and   transitions  of  expression  \— This  account^ 
^vhich  affords  some  little  glimpse  of  curious  in- 
formation, with  respect  both  to  the  Nomic  and 
Dithyrambic  hymn,  is  confirmed,  as  far  as  the 
latter  is  concerned,  by  Dionysius  Halicarn.  De 
Structurd  Orat,  Sect,  19.     lie  there  traces  the 
progress  of  all  this  Lyric  corruption,  and  nanies 
TiMOTHEus  and  Philoxenus  as  the  principal 
authors  of  these  licentious  and  wicked  innova- 
tions—^' for,  in  the  time  of  tlie  old  Poets,"  he  says^ 

"  the 


»  See  Dr.  Burner's  Hist,  of  Music,  vol.  i.  p.6i,  &c. 

— aywwrwv— civ  »j^n  fJuixiiaQat  ^uvafAtvm  nai  ^iaTtiY£(7^ai, 
i  ft»3?j  htVETO  (Aox^cc  xai  TTOJ^Ei^i,  KaOaTTt^  h  ra  PHMATA, 
kcu  ra  MEAH  rn  ^^rj^ra  mo>^6u,  an  fre^a  yivo^fw.^He 
adds,  A*aWL'v  ya^  t^  /i£7jr,  St,vayKn  fM(A.ii<T&cu  rt  roig  pv/xcurt'— 
by  which,  I  suppose,  he  means,  that  in  this  union  of 
poetical  and  musical  imitation  in  the  Nomes,  the  musical 
imitation  was  consicltred  as  the  principal  and  most 
essential  object. 


NOTES.  271 

"  the  Dithyrambic  ode  was  an  ordei^ly  and  re- 
**  guhr  composition*." 

Plutarch,  too,  in  the  Dialogue  Ui^i  M»<r»x»j?, 
speaks  exactly  the  same  language.  Timotheus 
and  Philoxenus  are  there  repeatedly  stigmatized 
as  corrupters  of  the  good  old  music;  and  the 
li^¥ix^u^  and  Xifi^m^ii^  t^ott©^,  is  opposed  to 
the  ^iXoJivfi^'',  with  a  zeal  similar  to  that,  with 
•which,  in  modern  music,  we  sometimes  hear  the 
style  of  Corelli  and  Geminiani  opposed  and  pre- 
ferred to  the  heterodox  novelties  of  Haydn  and 
Boccherini. 

The  manner,  in  which  Aristotle,  in  this  pro- 
blem, speaks  of  the  Nomes,  when  Compared  ^vith 
his  expressions  relative  to  the  Dithyrambics, 
rather  leads  one  to  suppose,  that  the  former  were 
not,  even  origi?iallj/,  composed  in  the  antistrophic 
form*:  the  least,  however,  that  can  be  inferred 
from  it,  is,  that  they  discarded  that  form,  and, 
consequently,  became  complicated,  artificial,  and 
imitative,  long  before  a  similar  revolution  took 
place  in  the  Dithyrambic  Poetry  and  Music. — 
I  may,  also,  observe  that  the  variety  of  imitation, 

and 


*  —  Tra^a  ys  toi(  a^xouot;  TETAFMENOS  HN  O 
AI0TPAMBO2.  What  he  means  by  TiTay/Mtv(^  is  suffi- 
ciently  explained  in  the  first  paragraph  of  the  same 
section. 

*  Plut.  Ed.  H.  Steph.  /».2092,  and  2084. 

'  Awf  T<  01  fuv  No/tioi  HK  iv  dmr^opoi;  EIIOIOTNTO  ;^ 
and,  01  NofMi  ^«wrwy  H2AN. 


^7^  NOTE    S. 

and  changes  of  ex}>ression,  clearly  attributed  by 
Aristotle  to  the  Nomes,  seem  to  confirm  what  I 
said  above— that  they  did  not  ej;dude  the  same 
variety,  in  the  objects  of  their  imitation,  which  tlic. 
Dithyrambic  Poem  confessedly  admitted. 

I  will  just  add,  that  this  problem  of  Aristotle 
throws  light  upon  a  passage  in  his  Rhetoric,  which 
has  embarrassed  his  commentators.     He  there 
[lib.  iii.  cap.  9.]  compares  the  diction  that  is  di- 
vided into  periods,  to  the  Antistrophic  Odes  "  of 
the  old  Poets  r  but,  tlie  Ai£,f  ii>o/.ii.i,,  in  which 
the  sentence  has  no  other  unity  than  that  which 
copulatives  give  it",  nor  any  other  measure  than 
the  completion  of  the  sense,  and  tlie  necessity  of 
taking  breath ",  or,  as  Cicero,  in  few  words,  ^0 
admirably  describes  it,  "  ilia  sine  interval/is  lo- 
"  quacitas  perennis  et  profluens**"— tl)is  Aristotle 
compares  to  what  he  calls  the  aVa/JoAai  in  Dithyr- 
ambic  Poetry  ,•  meaning,  I  think,  evidently,  the 
long,  irregular,  protracted  Odes  of  the   more 
.modern  Ditliyrambic  Poets;    such  as  those,  of 
which  he  speaks  in  the  Problem.     For  the  word, 
Ayx^oM,  here,  does  not,  I  believe,  signify  exordium, 

prooeiniitm, 

■  " —  T«  avj^Eo-fM)  fiiav. 
n  i^gv  ix^t  T£X(^  Ha^  aumv,  av  (xn  to  sr^ay/ua  XiyofMvg^ 
ji\sm&n.  The  periodic  diction,  as  opposed  to  this,  he  calls 
tthLvaimyr^.  [§  3.>--llIe  rudis,  incondite  fun^it  quanting 
potest,  et  id  quod  dicit  SPIRITU,  non  art£,  determiiuu 
"^Cic,  de  Gr.iii.44. 

;  i?^  Or.  ili.  48. 


NOTES.  273 

procemiitm,  as  usually  understood,  but  was,  pro- 
bably, the  name  by  which  these  wVat  /ixaxca*  xa* 
woA^itiTHf  P  were  distinguished,  and  opposed  to  the 
old  and  simple  Dithyrambic  in  stanzas. 

NOTE  18. 


P.  106.   Either   in  narration, - 

THAT,    AGAIN,    EITHER,    &C. 


-  -  AND 


It  may  safely  be  pronounced,  that  the  original 
here,  either  is  not  as  Aristotle  left  it,  or,  ^^  as  care- 
lessly and  ambiguously  written.  As  the  ambi- 
guity, how^ever,  does  not  affect  the  general  sense 
of  the  passage,  it  is  scarcely  worth  while  to  en- 
gage in  a  minute  discussion  of  the  comparative 
merits  of  the  two  different  constructions,  which 
have  been  adopted  by  different  commentators  and 
translators.  The  learned  reader  know^s,  or  may 
see,  what  has  been  said  on  both  sides.  I  have 
preferred  that  construction,  which  has  always 
appeared  to  me  to  result  most  obviously  and- 
naturally  from  the  words  of  the  original. — h  roiq 

auTOK,  xat  T«  uiiTa.  fAifxntrion  triv,  ore  fjnv  AIIArrEA- 
AONTA  (1I  In^ov  n  yiyvoixtyoyy  itrtn^  *0/xu^^  7roi£i, 

nPATTONTAS  xat  Ivi^yavrocg  ra;  fAifxaixivag. — 

In  the  other,  and  most  usual  way  of  taking 
^is  passage,  the  mixture  of  mere  nai^ratioriy  and 

dramatic 


p  See  note  ^. 


VOL,  I. 


(/ 


^74  NOTE    S; 

dramatic  imitation,  in  the  Epic  species,  is  ex- 
pressed   by   the  words,    6rs  f^ty  djrxyyiXXoyTO,,    i 

inpov  Ti  yiyyofxtyoy.  But  it  seems  not  likely,  that 
Aristotle  would  thus  oppose  the  word  aVayyix- 
Aovra,  to  htpov  ti  yiyvofMiyoy ;  bccause  the  term, 
dirccyyiXiu,  is  constantly  applied  by  him,  through- 
out the  treatise,  to  the  narrative  species  in  ge- 
neral :  it  is  opposed,  not  to  the  dramatic  part  of 
the  Epic,  but  to  the  drama  itself.  ATrccyytx.x 
and  <r»uyiio-tf,  axe  used  by  him  as  synonymous 
terms,  and  are  both  applied  to  the  whole  of  the 
Homeric,  or  dramatic.  Epic  Poem  *. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  words— if  ETEPON  n 
yiyvo/xfvov— seem  evidently  opposed  to— n'  «f  TON 
ATTON  xai  ^„  /*fTa/3aXAovTa,  and  should,  there- 
fore, be  joined  with  them,  not  with  iirxyytxxoyrx, 
—Lastly,  in  this  way  of  understanding  the  pas- 
sage, Aristotle  divides  the  different  manners  of 
imitation,  as  he  niight  naturally  be  expected  to 
divide  them,  into  those  which  characterize  the 
two  great  and    principal  species,   of  which   he 
means  to  treat—the  narrative  and  the  dra- 
3IATIC.     The  two  different  modes  of  the  former, 
i.  e.  the  pure  narrative,  and  the  dramatic  narrative, 
are,  with  more  propriety  than  in  the  other  con- 
struction, (in  his  view  of  the  subject,  at  least,) 

flung,  into  a  subdivision. 

— ■ In 

'  ^''  ^^-  ^•— ^J*  ^£ AIIArrEAIAN  mm— 

ipcaking  of  the  Epic  Poem.— And  r^.vi.  in  the  defi- 
nition of  Tragedy  —  «a*  «  ai*  ADAFrEAIAS.  So, 
ch.xxiii.  and  xxi\.  passim. 


NOTES. 


^7S 


In  either  construction,  however,  Aristotle  agrees 
with  Plato  in  enumerating  three  kinds  of  Poetry, 
the  purely  dramatic,  the  purely  narmtive,  and 
the  mixed  **.  But  the  generality  of  the  commen- 
tators seem,  too  hastily,  to  have  taken  it  for 
granted,  that  Aristotle  must  therefore  necessarily 
enumerate  them  in  the  same  manner ;  and  they 
have,  accordingly,  moulded  the  flexible  and  am- 
biguous construction  of  this  passage,  exactly 
upon  the  division  of  Plato  ^ 

I  was  glad  to  find  myself  supported  here  by  the 
judgment  of  the  accurate  Piccolomini,  whose  ver- 
sion coincides  with  mine. — In  un  modo,  per  via 
di  narratione, — e  questo,  6  ponendo  se  stesso  alle 
volte  il  Poeta  in  persona  d  altri,  come  fa  Homero, 
over  conservando  sempre  la  propria  persona  non 
mutata  mai.  Nel  altro  modo  poi,  introducendo 
persone  k  trattare  et  negotiare,  come  se  le  stesse 
persone  che  sono  imitate,  fussero. 

With  respect  to  the  imitation  here  expressly 
allowed  by  Aristotle  to  subsist  even  in  me7x  nar- 
ration, without  the  intermixture  of  any  thing 
dramatic,  see  Diss.  I.  p.  37,  &c. 


^  PlatOy  Rep,  lib.  iii.  p.  392,  D.  to  394,  D.  Ed.  Scrrani, 
But,  for  the  difference  of  Plato's  doctrine,  or  rather  of 
his  language,  from  that  of  Aristotle,  see  Diss.  I.  />.  60. 

•  See,  particulady.  Is.  Casaubon,  De  Sat.  Poes. 
cap.  iii.  init.  I  agree  perfectly  with  Mr.  Winstanley, 
that    his    emendations    are    not    necessary.     [But    sec 

REMARK  7,   vol.ii.  p.  461.] 
VOL.  I.  T  2 


/ 


^74  NOTE    S. 

dramatic  imitation,  in  the  Epic  species,  is  ex- 
pressed   by   tfie  words,    on  ^£v  dirocyyaXoyroL,    if 
Iri^ov  Ti  yiyvofxiyoy.     But  it  seems  not  likely,  that 
Aristotle  would  thus  oppose  the  word  dnxyyiX- 
XovToc,  to  htpov  Ti  yiyvofAiyov;   bccause  the  term, 
d'^ccyys\iu,  is  Constantly  applied  by  him,  through- 
out the  treatise,  to  the  narrative  species  in  ge- 
neral :  it  is  opposed,  not  to  the  dramatic  part  of 
the  Epic,  but  to  the  drama  itself.     Airocyytx.x 
and  ^Tiuyuff-t^,  aae  used  by  him  as   synonymous 
terms,  and  are  both  applied  to  the  whole  of  the 
Homeric,  or  dramatic.  Epic  Poem'. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  words— if  ETEPON  n 
yiyko/x£j.ov— seem  evidently  opposed  to— if  cJf  TON 
ATTON  xai  |u»,  f^iTocf^xXXoyrcc,  and  should,  there- 
fore, be  joined  with  them,  not  with  dirayyiXXoyrix. 
—Lastly,  in  this  way  of  understanding  the  pas- 
sage, Aristotle  divides  the  different  man?!ers  of 
imitation,  as  he  might  naturally  be  expected  to 
divide  them,  into  those  which  characterize  the 
two  great  and    principal  species,   of  which   he 
means  to  treat— the  narrative  and  the  dra- 
matic.    The  two  different  modes  of  the  former, 
i.  e.  the  pure  narrative,  and  the  dramatic  narrative, 
are,  with  more  propriety  than  in  the  other  con- 
struction, (in  his  view  of  the  subject,  at  least,) 

flung,  into  a  subdivision. 

. — ! Tn 

^  See  ch.  V.--TJ,  ^£  -  - ATUrrEAlAN  ihcu^ 

speaking  of  the  Epic  Poem.— And  capM.  in  the  defi. 
nition  of  Tragedy  —  iw«  «  ^;  AOArrEAIAX.  So, 
ch.  xxiii.  and  xxi\-.  passim. 


NOTES.  275 

< 

In  either  construction,  however,  Aristotle  agrees 
with  Pluto  in  enumerating  three  kinds  of  Poetry, 
the  purely  dramatic,  the  purely  narrative,  and 
the  mixed  \  But  the  generality  of  the  commen- 
tators seem,  too  hastily,  to  have  taken  it  for 
granted,  that  Aristotle  must  therefore  necessarily 
enumerate  them  in  the  same  n^anner ;  and  they 
have,  accordingly,  moulded  the  flexible  and  am- 
biguous construction  of  this  passage,  exactly 
upon  the  division  of  Plato '. 

I  was  glad  to  find  myself  supported  here  by  the 
judgment  of  the  accurate  Piccolomini,  whose  ver- 
sion coincides  with  mine. — In  ux  modo,  per  via 
di  narratione, — e  qmsto,  6  ponendo  se  stesso  alle 
volte  il  Poeta  in  persona  d  altri,  come  fa  Homero, 
over  conservando  sempre  la  propria  persona  non 
mutata  mai.  Nel  altro  modo  poi,  introducendo 
persone  i  trattare  et  negotiare,  come  se  le  stesse 
persone  che  sono  imitate,  fussero. 

With  respect  to  the  imitation  here  expressly 
allowed  by  Aristotle  to  subsist  even  in  meix  nar- 
ration, without  the  intermixture  of  any  thing 
dramatic,  see  Diss.  I.  p.  37,  &c. 

^  PlatOy  Rep,  lib.  iii.  p.  392,  D.  to  394,  D.  Ed.  Scrrani. 
But,  for  the  difference  of  Plato's  doctrine,  or  rather  of 
his  language,  from  that  of  Aristotle,  see  Diss.  1.  p.  60. 

•  See,  particularly.  Is.  CasaubQn,  De  Sat.  Poes, 
cap.  iii.  init.  I  agree  perfectly  with  Mr.  Winstanley, 
that   his   emendations   are   not   necessary.     [But   sec 

REMARK  7.  vol.  ii.  p.  461.] 
VOL.  I.  T  2 


ff 


14^ 


276 


NOTES. 


NOTE     19. 

X 

p.  106.  Elevated  characters  — 

Gr.  inoTAAiors, 

if 

The  adjective   2^«J«.Sh,    and    its    opposite 
*««A^,     are   words    of  considerable    latitude.' 
They,  each  of  them,  comprehend  a  number  of 
different,   though  related,  ideas,    for   which  wc 
have  not,  that  I  know  of,  any  common  word. 
Propriety  itself,   therefore,   requires  of  a  trans- 
lator that,  which,  at  first  view,  seems  contrary  to 
propnety-that  he  should  render  each  of  those 
words  differently  in  different  places.     To  have 
translated  ^^«;«.«f  here,  "g-ood;"  or  '^virtuous:' 
as  It  may  gaierdly  be  translated,    would  only 
have  been  giving  an  English  uord  with  a  Greek 
Idea,  which  none   but  readers  of  Greek  would 
have  affixed  to  it. 

The  Greeks  appear  to  have  applied  the  word 
JnOTAAION,  to  whatever  urn,  on  anj,  accouJ 
«J.«.  .W„-whatever   was    respeclabk,  impor'. 
tant,  admirable,  serious,  valuable,  &c.  as  opposed 
to  *ATAON,  which  was  applied,  not  to  mfonly 
but  to  whatever  was  contemptible,  trifling  \  Hg/it, 

„. ,; •  ordinary, 

'  Demosthenes  has  tin's   expression  •     i 

IS   sometimes   used  in  /.W/V.r  En.uTTor    Si? 
"  no  ^^^  blows/*  ^»5"sa,   tor,   tnjm^: 


NOTES.  277 

erdhiari/,  ridiculous— or,  as  we  say  in  familiar 
English,  good  for  nothing.  Hence  the  various 
senses  of  both  these  words  in  the  Greek  writers, 
according  as  they  were  applied  to  persons,  and 
things,  that  were  the  objects  of  esteem,  or  con- 
tempt,  on  different  accounts.  Sometimes,  there- 
fore, irmSxit^  may  be  rendered  by  '^goodf 
sometimes  by  "  serious,  earnest,"'  &c.— Some- 
times, as  in  this  passage,  and  in  the  definition 
of  Tragedy,  by  ''  elevated;'  "  important,''  &c. ' 

Suidas  explains  the  word,  not  only  by  Eva^fT(^, 
but  by  SO^OX,  and  ETAOKIMOS.  See  also  the 
article,  <!>x\jX(^.  Hesychius  gives,  as  synony- 
mous to  ^x\jX^,  not  only  the  general  word, 
Kax^,  but,  ETTEAH2— 'AnAOTS— KATAFE- 
AASTOS.  And  Phavorinus — (pa,\)KQy,  to  xaxov, 
xxi  TO  iiriXzq,  xai  to  ^ixfok,  xat  OTZiAMINON — • 
Angl.  "  good  for  nothing." 

Some  kind  of  virtue,  in  the  extended  sense 
given  to  the  word  APETH  by, the  antient  writers 
on  morals,  was,  indeed,  always  implied  in  the 
epithet  Ziralxii^ ;  but  it  included  such  good 
qualities,  and  endowments,  as  xcc  do  not  usually 
call  virtues;  or,  at  least,  such  as  we  never 
include   in  our  idea  of  a  virtuous  man":    as, 

wisdom, 

^  Tiius,  Dacier — les  gens  plus  considerables. — Picco- 
lomini — persone  grave  : — attione  grave  e  magnifica. — 
Hcinsius — honestos.    Gouhton,-- prastantes.  Sec. 

'  See  Hume's  Printiples  of  Morals,  Sect.  6.  Part  I, — 
particularly  p.  Ill,  &c.— and  the  note,  p.  104. 

T3 


278 


NOTES. 


wisdom,  courage,  eloquence,  &c.— Thus  Aristotfe 
himself; -TO  St  inOTAAION  „V«.,  ,5-.  „  tA2 
APETA2  tx."'^.  And  what  are  these  viriuis  f~ 
they  are—"  all  laudable  habitsr—rm  J^«^  t*; 
EnAINETAX,   APETA2  Aiy<,,u,» '. 

The  subject  of  Criticism  is  necessarily  con- 
nected, in  some  degree,  with  that  of  Ethics; 
and  unless  we  understand  weii  the  moral  language 
of  any  writer,  we  cannot  be  competent  iudaes  of 
nis  critJcism. 

NOTE     20. 

P.  107.  In  support  of  these  claims 

THEY       ARGUE       FR03X      THE      WORDS      THEM- 
SELVES. 

Uoi^f^tyoi  rx  lyoi^cLTcc  (rt,/x£,o*..— The  participle, 
^oi«^s.oi,  should  be  applied,  I  think,  to  all  the 
Dorians-not  confined,  as  in  Dacier's  trans- 
lation,  to  those  of  Peloponnesus.  See  Goulston  s 
version,  which  appears  to  me  to  be  right. 

Aristotle  begins  by  saying  expressly,  that  the 
Dorians,  in  gemral,  laid  claim  to  both  Tragedy 
and  Comedy,  on  account  of  the  term  APAMA, 
Avhich  was  a  Doric  word  :— Aio  (i.  e.  from  the 
term  Ac^^^ra,  just  before  mentioned,)  iyTuvo^^yrai 

T>Jf 

""  Mag,  Moral,  u  I.  « 

*  Eth,Nicom,— End  r>f  Book  I.-I  may  also  refer  the 
reader,  on  this  subject,  to  Cic.  de  Or,  lib.ii.  cap.  84. 
"  Virtus  autem,  quae  est  per  se  ipsa  iaudabiiis,"  &c. 


NOTES.  279 

Tfif  Ti  Tpocyuifioi;  xa*  rrig  Kccfxafiaq  OI  AflPIEIS. — 
He  then  mentions  the  pecuUai^  claims   of  the 
Megarians  to  Comedy,  and  of  the  Dorians  of 
Peloponnesus  to  Tragedy ;   throwing  in,  paren- 
thetically, some  other  arguments  on  which  the 
former  aho  founded  their  title  to  the  invention  of 
Comedy :    after  which,  he  returns,  at  tha  w^ord 
ir/)i»/xfkOi,  to  shew,  how  these  people  concurred  in 
arguing  from  the  etymology  of  the  icords  them- 
selves ;    all  of  them,  from  the  word  J^a^a,  as  it 
was  common  to  Tragedy  and  Comedy,  and  they, 
who  laid  claim  to  Comedy,  both  from  that,  and 
also  from  the  derivation  of  the  word  K&;/Aw<^ta. 

The  construction,  in  this  way,  is,  I  confess, 
somewhat  parenthetical  and  embarrassed;  but 
the  reader,  who  is  accustomed  to  the  style  of 
Aristotle,  will  not,  I  believe,  consider  this  as 
affording  alone  any  sufficient  presumption  against 
the  explanation  here  given. 

NOTE    2U 

! 

P.  108.    The  FIGURES   of  the   meanest 

AND    MOST    DISGUSTING    ANIMALS. 

0u^iwi/  T£  /xo^(p«f  rm  ATIMOTATXIN. — This 
reading  is  strongly  supported  by  the  arguments 
of  Victorius,  the  authority  of  MSS.  and  the  sense 
and  purport  of  the  passage  itself,  which  seems  to 
require  instances  of  meany  or  disgusting,  rather 
than  of  terrible^  objects.    Thus  too  Plutarch,  in 

T  4  the 


t 


I 


28o  NOTES. 

the  passages  referred  to  by  Victorias,  which  un- 

doubtcdiy  allude  to  this  of  Aristotle      r 

iNemn^;'  ''"""'"  '''"-""  ^°^"^"  ^- 


NOTE     22. 

To  the  same  purpose,  i„  his  Itiitoric  B  i 

«  i  U  £KEINO  •    «„   MAN0ANEIN    r. 

to  LEARx,  t<5  ABMiuE,  and  the  like,  hence  we 

necessar  Iv    rer*  iuo   ^i  ® 

"y    receive   pleasure   from   imitative 

"  arts, 

'^  plate,  1  thiiik,  improbable,  because  th.  c 
P-opie  .„„ec,.ce,y  follows,  i„  O^^Z.^^:'""' 


(t 


16 


a 


iC 


a 


i( 


NOTES.  a8i 

arts,  as  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Poetry, 
and  from  whatever  is  well  imitated,  even 
though  the  original  may  be  disagreeable ;  for 
our  pleasure  does  not  arise  from  the  beauty  of 
the  thing  itself,  but  from  the  viftrence — the 
discovery,  that  **This  is  That,"  &e.  so  that 
*'  we  seem  to  learn  something."  -  -  - 

Mav6avf ik  — to  learji^  to  know,  i.  e.  merely  to 
recognize,  discover,  &c.  See  Harris,  On  3Iusic, 
Painting,  &c.  ch,  iv.  note  (b).  The  meaning  is 
sufficiently  explained  by  what  follows.  Dryden, 
who  scarce  ever  mentions  Aristotle  "without  dis- 
covering that  he  had  looked  only  at  the  w  rong 
side  of  the  tapestry  *",  says — "  Aristotle  tells  us, 
"  that  imitation  pleases  because  it  affords  matter 
^^  for  a  reasoner  to  enquire  into  the  truth  or 
"  falsehood  of  imitation,"  &c.**    But  Aristotle  is 

not 

^  "  Methinkes  this  translating,^*  says  Don  Quixote, 
*^  is  just  like  looking  upon  the  wrong  side  of  arras  hang" 
ingi ;  that  although  the  pictures  be  seene,  yet  they  arc 
full  of  thred-ends,  that  darken  them,  and  they  are  not 
*'  seene  with  the  plainnesse  and  smoothnesse  as  on  the 
**  other  side.'*    SheltorCs  Don  Quixote.    Sec,  part,  cK  Ixii. 

^  Parallel  between  Poetry  and  Painting,  prefixed  to  his 
translation  of  Dufresnoy.  Dryden  seems  to  have  taken 
his  idea  from  Dacier's  note  on  this  place,  which  is  ex- 
tremely confused,  and  so  expressed,  as  to  leave  it  doubt- 
ful, whether  he  misunderstood  the  original,  or  only 
explained  himself  awkwardly. — The  use  that  Dryden 
made  of  French  critics  and  translators  is  well  known. 

He 


r< 


i< 


*«2  NOTES. 

not  here  speaking  of  reckoners,  or  inguiry;  but 

»       nd    who.  he  expressly  .,,..1  ,,  ^ 
sophers,    or    reasoners :    and   liis   cuAAov.f,^.. 

IS  no  more  than  that  rapid  habit„«I        7.^"^'' 
rpnrihi»      .     ^    ,       ^    '  "^^""al.  and  imper- 
ceptible act  of  the  mind    that    "ro.-c 
an«i  r.-^      .  .  '  raisoniiement 

aussi  prompt  que  le  coup  d'cEil,"  fas  it  is  wHl 
paraphrased  by  M  Datteu^  ^  h      \-  T 
or  infer  f  ^a"eux,)  by  which  we  collect. 

It  r  t ""P"'^^"  ^^  ^'-  P'«"-  with 

ti^e    mage  of  the  original  in  our  minds    that  it 

was  intended  to  represent  that  original. 

The  fullest  illustration  of  this  passage  is  to  be 
found  in  another  work  of  Aristotle.  his°Khe toric 
f  •'V''^-^;-'^- he  applies  the  same  prn-' 
p  ut^r^'^'l  ^^"°"^°"^'  -^  --'ves'the 
whTchlri  et  r^K^"  '"'^^  '"Suage,  into  that 
Which  anses  from  the  ^«9,..,  TAXEIA-the  ex- 
ercise of  our  understandings  in  discoverhg  the 

oualitv  or        ^.v  ''''•^  perception  of  some 

quality  or  qualities  common  to  the  thin.  e.r- 

Pressed,  and  the  thing  intended- to  a  mirror  for 

-ample,  and  to  the  theatre,  when  t^"2X 

^  ed  metaphorically,  «<  The  .i„or  of  h  mal 


He  commends    "  i)a«V,..,  /^,,         , 

before  the  passage  above  quoted.  '^"""-  ■<"" 

-  ^"  ^^"'* "^  ^^'^'^.  ^«f.  p.  190,  and  note*. 


NOTES.  2«3 

In  the  Problems,  Sect,  i  g,  Proi.  V.  the  same 
principle  is  applied  to  Music.    The  Problem  is, 
Why  we  are  more  pleased  with  singing  when  we 
are  acquainted  with  the  air  that  is  sung,  than 
when  it  is  new  to  us  ?— And  one  of  tlie  answers 
IS,  OT.  i.iv  TO  f.«i-9*n„— i.  e.  to  say,  this  is  such  a 
tune,    or  song,  &c.     And  indeed  the  pleasure 
afforded  by  recognitkn,   is  no  where,  perhaps, 
more  visibly  illustrated,  than  in  the  raptures  and 
rhythmical  agitation  of  a  popular  audience,  at 
the  return  of  the  leading  air,  in  that  species  of 
infallible  ear-trap,  the  Rondeau.— I  must  add, 
as  somewhat  amusing,  that  Plato  makes  use  of 
this  principle  to  prove  a  dog  to  be  a  philosophical 
animal:     "  for,    (he   argues,)   to    ?.A«;u«fl.f   ««, 
<piX<)<ro<p<,>,  T  avrov,  the  love  of  knowing,  and  the 
love  of  wisdom,  are  one  and  the  same  thing. 
"'Now  dogs  are  delighted  with /■«02i;/wo-,  simply, 
"  and  disinterestedly;    they  fawn    upon    every 
"  one  whom  they  know,  and  bark  at  the  approach 
of  every  stranger*;  and  that,   without  having 
ever  experienced  good  from  the  one,  or  harm 
"  from  the  other '." 

The 


(( 


<( 


IC 


(I 


i< 


«  Every  pei-son,  of  whom,  in  Aristotle's  language, 
they  cannot  say— 'Ovt^  mtv©-.  "  This  is  he.'* 

*»  'Ov  fxiv  ay  Ih  ArNHTA,  xc^^Traivsty  i^hv  ^ti  koxov 
'^TfOTuBTTOvQoji'  ov  ^  av  TNaPIMON,  aaira^iTcu,  k  ay  fxnhv 

vuTTore  UTT    avTH   aya^ov  Trevovdoi, AMa  ^w   xofji.4.ov  ye 

^aivETai  TO  TtaQ^  aum  tji;  <pu<reu;,  xat  HZ  AA'HGaS 
*lAOXO$ON :  H,  T.  o^.  Rep.  \l  p.  376.  Serran. 


284  NOTE    S. 

The  philosophy  of  Aristotle  here,  though  un- 
doubtedly true,  as  far  as  it  goes,  t\'ill,  I  am  afraid, 
to  those  who  examine  it,  hardly  appear  to  be 
perfectly  satisfactory,  or  to  reach   the  bottom  of 
the  subject.    It  is  however  to  be  considered,  that 
what  he  has   said,   seems  applicable  chiefly  to 
rude  and  unskilful  spectators,  and  should,  per- 
haps, be  considered  as  a  description  of  the  effect 
of  a  picture  or  a  statue  upon  children,  and  the 
multitude,  who  are  little   accustomed   to   view 
works  of  imitative  art.    And  even  with  respect 
to  them,  the  principle  seems  scarcely  applicable 
but  to  portraits,   and   individual  reseipblances, 
such  as  may  not  be  instantly  recognized.    When 
we  look  at  a  picture  of  that  kind,  we  may  not  dis- 
cover, till  after  a  comparison  of,  at  least,  a  few 
moments,  that  it  is  an  imitation   of  this  or  that 
person ;  but,  that  it  is  an  imitation  of  a  man,  we 
see  at  once;    and  where  there  is  not  even   a 
momentary  ignorance,  or  doubt,  I  do  not  see  how 
any  information '  can  be  said  to  be  acquired  by 
the  spectator,  nor  how,  on  the  philosopher  s  own 
principles,   (if   I   rightly   understand    him,)  the 
pleasure  conveyed  by  the  imitation,  can,  in  any 
sense,    be  resolved    into  that,    which  the   mind 
receives  froai  the  exertion  of  its  own  powers  in 
inferring,   or   discovering,    the  resemblance.— 
I  say,  on  Aristotle's  oxvn  principles,  because,  in 

the 


NOTES.  285 

the  passage  above  referred  to^,  where  he  explains 
himself  more  fully  in  applying  the  principle  ta 
metaphor,  he  expressly  allows,  that  this  pleasure 
of  recognition,  is  not  afforded  by  proper  or 
common  words,  since  they  instantly  suggest  their 
meaning  and  cannot  be  mistaken*.  Now  a 
painting,  considered  as  an  imitation  of  a  man,  a 
horse,  a  house,  in  generqly  obviously  answers  in 
this  respect,  unless  the  imitation  be  grossly  im- 
perfect*, to  the  common  and  familiar  word;  the 
one  suggesting  its  original,  as  readily  and  im- 
mediately, as  the  other  suggests  its  idea. 

Among  Aristotle's  illustrations  of  this  physical 
principle  of  tlie  pleasure  of  self-information,  as 
it  might  be  called,  there  are  two  short  passages, 


:   I 


m 


^  See  below,  note  ^ 


^  Rhet.  iii.  10. 

'  — ra  h  Kv^ia  IXMEN. — "  The  Stagirite  having  told 
**  us  what  a  natural  pleasure  we  derive  from  infor- 
''  MAT  ion,  and  having  told  us  that,  in  the  subject  of 
*'  words,  exotic  words  want  that  pleasure  from  being  ob- 
"  scure,  and  common  words  from  being  too  well  known,**^ 
adds,  &c.    Harris,  Phil,  Inq,  p.  190,  note*. 

*  As  it  was,  when  Painting  was  in  its  infant  state — 
iy  yaXaii  koi  cTra^yavoig — according  to  the  quaint  expres- 
sion of  -^lian,  Hist.  Far.  x.  10. — of  which  he  seems  to 
have  been  fond ;  for  it  occurs  before  Ub.  viii.  cap.  8.  It 
seems  very  properly  guarded,  in  boch  places,  by  a  — 
Tfosrov  Tim, — The  old  painters  of  whom  -^lian  speaks 
were  little  aware  of  Aristotle^s  principle,  when  they 
wrote  under  dieir  pictures — T^o  ggg     ■  £jk«h?  <V;r®- — ^ 


?  i- 


»86  NOTES, 

in  particular,  which  seem  to  be  so  explicit  with 
regard  to  the  nature  of  that  pleasure,  that  I  will 
venture  to  add  to  the  length  of  this  note  by  a 
transcript  and  translation  of  them  both.  They 
will,  I  think,  satisfy  the  learned  reader  that  I  have 
not,  m  the  foregoing  remarks,  misrepresented  the 
philosopher's  meaning. 

After  having  applied  the  principle  to  metaphor, 
he  applies  it  in  like  manner  to  the  enthymemes, 
or  arguments,  of  the  orator. 

evCoKiftei  •  {tTriTToXuicc  yoc^  Xeyofziv  rot.  'Ka.vTt,  ly{Kot^ 
xoti  *A  MHAEN  AEI  ZHTHZAI')  ir^  oVa 
Eipiif4.£foc  dyvoufzevcx,  |^<  •  cixx  IcruVy  ^  ufjLx  Xeyo- 
[iBvccv  )j  yvua-ig  ytverui,  ycoci  el  y^ri  tt^otb^ov  U7riyf;^6y, 
rj  iziyt^ov  v^B^it^Bt  ii  Siavoioc'  yiveroci  yot^  'OION 
MA0HSII:-  lycmujg  Se,  ^Sere^ov^ 

For  the  same  reason,  we  are  pleased, 
"  neither,  with  superficial  arguments,  (by  which 
*'  we  mean  such  as  are  obvious  to  every  one 
"  and  require  no  thought  or  search  in  the  hearer;) 
"  nor  with  such  as  we  do  not  understand  when 
"  we  have  heard  them  ;  but,  with  those,  which 
the  mind  apprehends,  either  zvhik  we  hear 
*'  them,  (though  not  atjirst,)  or  in  the  moment 
"  after  they  are  delivered :— for  by  these^  we, 
"m   a  manner y   learn    something:    by   the 

"  others^ 


/ 


^mi 


■  Rhet  iii,  lo. 


NOTES.  287 

**  others,  we  learn  nothing  in  either  of  these 
"  ways"." 

The  other  passage,  in  which  the  nature  of  the 
pleasure  that  Aristotle  means  is  still  more  ex- 
pressly marked,  is  this : 

JJocvTcov  oe  T6ov'^cvXXoyi(rfjLuv  SoovfietToci  uoc" 
Xis'oc  TCC  roiUVTU  ocroc  udxo[jlbvoc  nPOOPXlSI, 
fJLfl  rta  BTrtTroXrig  bIvoh  •  a^a  yocp  koci  ATTOI  E<P 
EAYTGIE  XAIPOTSI  TT^ooncrdocvoiJLBvor  Kut 
ccruv  TocrnTov  v^B^t^vciv,  co(r9  afix  bIotiubvcov 
yvcooi^Biv  **. 

"  Of  all  arguments,  tliose  are  most  applauded ''y 
"  of  which  the  audience  have  no  sooner  heard 
"  the  beginning y  than  they  foresee  the  conclu- 
"  sion ; — not,  however,  from  their  being  trite  and 
"  obvious ;  for  they  are  pleased,  [not  only  with 
"  the  ingenuity  of  the  speaker,  but^^  at  the  same 

*•  time, 

-  ■  ■ .  -  -■  ■ ^     ^ 

•*  «3fT£^ov — i.e.  neither  while  we  hear  them,  nor  as 
soon  as  we  have  heard  them. 

*•  Rhet,  ii.  cap.  xxiii.  Duval,  In  some  other  editions, 
cap.  xix. 

P  "  applaudcd^^ Qo^u^enat,     The    commentators 

strangely  mistake  the  sense  of  this  word  here,  and  in 
lib.  i.  c,  ii.    They  render  it,  absurdly, — vehementtiis  per-- 

cellunt — perturbantmaxiniey  &c. Whether  an  audience 

be  pleased,  or  displeased,  to  any  great  degree,  noise  is 
equally  the  consequence ;  and  the  word  Go^u^siv  is  used, 
sometimes  for  the  uproar  of  approbation,  and  sometimes 
for  that  of  dislike, 

^  I  insert  these  words,  because,  tliough  not  in  the 
original,  they  seem  plainly  implied  in  the  expression— 
'AMA  ya^  KAl  cwtqi,  &c. 


3t88  NOTES. 

time,  WITH  THEMSELVES  and  their  own  saga- 
city.— Those  ariTuniei)ts,  also,  afford  pleasure, 
which,  tlie  momeni  after  tliey  are  delivered,  we 
are  no  longer  at  a  loss  to  apprehend/' 


H    O    T    E    S: 


<« 


u 


a 


a 


m 


NOTE  23. 

P.  108.     In  a  more  transient  and  com- 
pendious MANNER. 

Eiri  (i^x^v  : — literally,  "  for  a  short  time.''  As 
Plato,  Rep.  iii.  p.  39(5,  xocra  P^xx^y  J^^  ^  '^^^^ 
merit — en  passant.  Dacier's  explanation — Quoi 
qu'ils  ne  soient  pas  tous  egalement  propres  d  ap- 
prendre,— \s,  surely,  wide  of  Aristotle's  purpose. 
None  of  the  versions,  that  I  have  seen,  seem  to 
give  the  exact  idea,  except  that  of  Heinsius : — 
**  Quamquam  minor  breviorque  ad  hos  per- 

veniat  voluptas." 


n 


note  24. 

p.  108.     From  the  workmanship. 

Ai«  T»)F  AnEPrASIAN—^' neatness  "—^*>?iyA- 
iwg-,"  &c.  In  the  following  passages  of  Plato, 
it  is  opposed  to  a  slight  sketch : — xa»  aurwi/  TifTOk 

[SC.  <Jtxaio<ruv»i?,   <rw<ppo(ruvr)f,  &c.]  «;^  'XIlOrPA^HN 
/«*,  wd-TTf^  y\iy  6£a<ra<r6a»,  oAAa  TUk  rtXturxmy  APEP- 

TAIIAN  fxr\  wx^iiyxi'  Rep.  vi.  p.  504.     So  again, 
lib.  viii.  p.  548,  the  verb,  a7rf/)ya{£<r9a*,  is  opposed 

to  iTT^y^x^Hv* 


NOTE  25. 

P.  109.    Metre — a  species  of  rhythm. 

Uo fix —parts.— The  following  passage  will 
ascertain  the  sense  of  the  word  in  this  place,  and 
justify  my  version.  Explaining  the  different  senses 
in  which  the  word   Mip©*  was   used,  Aristotle 

says, — ET«,  £if  X  ro  5»V(^  ^ixi^i^Bin  av,  dvsv  ns  llcxra, 
XXI  rxvTx  MOPIA  Xsjurxi  thth'  $io  rx  EIAH,  ra 
FENOTi:  (poc<ri9  slvxi  MOPIA.  —  Metaphys.  Ub.Y. 
cap. 25. — So,  in  this  treatise,  cap.^.—r^  Autx^h 
If*  TO  VtXoiQv  MOPION— "  a  part,  or  species,  of 
*'  the  ridiculous." 
♦ 

NOTE  26. 

P.  109.  Those  persons,  in  whom,  ori- 
ginally, THESE  propensities  WERE  THK 
STRONGEST,    &C. 

It  is  obvious  to  remark  here,  that  Aristotle,  in 
this  deduction  of  the  art  from  the  mimetic  and 
musical  instincts,  includes  verse  in  his  idea  of 
Poetry,  which  he,  at  least,  considered  as  imperfect 
without  it.  All  that  he  drops,  elsewhere,  to  the 
disparagement  of  metre,  must  be  understood 
only  comparatively  :  it  goes  no  farther,  than  to 
say,  that  imitation,  that  is,  fiction  and  invention, 
without  verse,  deserves  the  title  of  Poetry,  or 
Making,  better  than  verse  witliout  imitation. 

VOL,  I.  u  Aa 


/.I 
^1 


^90  W    O    T    E    S. 

An  eminent  writer  has  adjusted  this  matter, 
and  set  it  on  its  true  and  solid  basis,  in  his  Dis- 
sertation  On  the  idea  of  Universal  Poetry^. 
What  is  there  said,  of  "  the  oricrin  and  first  ap- 
"  plication  of  Poetry  among  all  nations,"  will 
furnish  the  best  comment  I  can  give,  upon  the 
passage  which  is  the  subject  of  this  note. 

Poetry  is  every  where  of  the  most  early 
growth,  preceding  every  other  sort  of  compo- 
sition ;  and  being  destined  for  the  ear,  that  is, 
to  be  either  sung,  or  at  least  recited,  it  adapts 
itself,  even  in  its  first  rude  essays,  to  tlmt  sense 
of  measure,  and  proportion  in  sounds,  which  is 
''  so  natural  to  us.  The  hearer's  attention  is  the 
"  sooner  gained  by  tliis  means,  his  entertainment 
"  quickened,  and  his  admiration  of  the  performer's 
art  excited.  Men  are  ambitious  of  pleasing, 
and  ingenious  in  refiningupon  what  they  observe 
will  please.  So  that  musical  cadences  and  har- 
monious sounds,  which  nature  dictated,  are 
*'  farther  softiened  and  improved  by  art,  till  Poetry 
"  become  as  ravishing  to  the  ear,  as  the  images, 
"  it  presents,  are  to  the  imagination.  In  process 
of  time,  what  was  at  first  the  extemporaneous 
production  of  genius  or  passion,  under  the  con- 
"  duct  of  a  natural  ear,  becomes  the  labour  of 
the  closet,  and  is  conducted  by  artificial  rules; 
yet  still,  with  a  secret  reference  to  the  sense  of 

**  hearing, 


it 


t( 


it 


it 


iC 


it 


it 


ii 


it 


it 


it 


it 


it 


it 


•  Dr.  Hurd's  Horace,  vol.  ii. 


NOTES.  291 

^'  bearing,  and  to  that  acceptation  which  melo- 
*'  dious  sounds  meet  with  in  the  recital  of  ex- 
**  pressive  words." 

NOTE  27. 
P.  110.     Margites. 

The  scraps  that  have  been  preserved  of  this 
Poem,  the  Dunciad  of  Homer,  are  so  few,  and 
so  short,  that  it  may  be  worth  while,  for  the  con- 
venience of  the  reader,  to  collect  them. — 

— a  line  as  likely  to  be  found  in  one  kind  of  Poem 
as  in  another,  and  which  affords  about  as  good  a 
sample  of  this  Poem,  as  a  brick  does  of  the  build- 
ing from  which  it  was  taken. — The  other  fragments 
are  a  little  more  interesting,  as  they  give  some 
idea  of  the  hero  of  the  Poem. 

TONA  VT  au  (ncuTTTrj^oe,  Qeoi  Qbcocv,  ir  aoormoc. 
Out  ocXXcag  ri  (ro(pov*  ^uorrig  S'  '^fjcoc^onxve  Ttypi^^- 
YioXX  TiTTis-otTO  B^yoc,  rcoizug  S^  '^Trtg-uro  'Ttocvtu'', 

— This  last  stroke  of  character  is  not  peculiarly 
antique.  The  line  is  of  easy  application  in  all 
^^^  times. 

•  Cited  by  the  Scholiast  on  die  Jves  of  Aristophanes, 
v.  914.  ^ 

*»  Preserved  by  Aristode,  Ef/i.  lib.  vi.  cap  7,  as  far  as 
the  word  ao(pQv.     The  remainder  of  the  second  line  is  in 

■  * 

Clem.  Alexand,  Strom,  lib,  i. 

'  Plato,  Alcib,  Secund,  p.  147.  Ed,  Serrani, 

U  2 


^^  NOTES, 

tiniies.  It  is  not  so  easy  to  reconcile  it  ti-ith  some 
olher  accounts,  which  seem  to  make  Margites 
a  downright  idiot ;  such  as,  his  not  being  able 
to  number  beyond  five ;  his  abstaining  from  all 
intercourse  with  his  bride,  lest  she  should  com- 
plain of  him  to  her  mother,  &c'*.— One  cannot 
well  conceive,  how  such  a  man  should,  as  Homer 
expressly  says,  "  know  how  to  do  many  things \' 
,  even  though  he  did  them  ever  so  ill.  But  a  tale, 
still  more  ridiculous,  is  told  of  this  curious  per- 
sonage by  Eustath'im*. 

NOTE  28. 

P.  110.   His  Margites  bears  the  same 

AXALOGY    TO     CoMEDY,    AS     HIS     IlIAD    AND 

Odyssey  to  TuAgedy. 

Whenever  Aristotle  speaks  of  Comedy,  we 
must  remember,  that  he  speaks  of  the  Old,  or 
Middle  Comedy,  which  was  no  other  than  what 
we  should  call  farce,  and  to  which  his  definition 
of  Comedy  was  adapted :  ^,/Ei„Tic  ^auAoT£^a,i, ; 
that  is,  as  he  explains  himself,  "  an  imitation  of 
"  RIDICULOUS  characters*." — This  remark  is 
tiecessary  to  explain  what  is   here  said   of  the 

Margites. 

*  Suidas,  Art.  Margites. 

*  Emtath,  ad  Horn.  Odyss.  K.— Sec    also  Kuster's 
note  on  Suidas,  Art,  Margites. 

*  Chap.  V.  Tramlatlon,  \  8.  Part  I.     And  see  Dr. 
Kurd's  D/w.  on  the  Provinces  of  the  Drama,  ch.ii.  p.  201. 


NOTES.  ^9i 

Alargites.  A  Poem,  which,  as  far  as  we  can 
form  any  ide^  of  it,  celebrated  the  blunders  and 
absurdities  of  an  idiot,  cannot  well  be  conceived 
to  have  been  analogous  to  any  tiling,  that  would 
now  be  denominated  a  Comedy.  It  seems  to 
verge  to  the  very  bottom  of  the  dramatic  scale ; 
*'  jusq'  au  bouffon ;  celui-ci  sera  lextr^me  de 
**  la  Comedie,  le  plus  bas  degre  de  I'echelle, 
"  oppos6  au  terrible  qui  est  h,  I'autre  bout''.*' 
The  Bourgeois  GentUhomme  of  Moliere  is  cer^ 
tainly  farce,  however  excellent  in  its  way.  But 
Mons.  Jourdain  is  a  very   Ulysses,  compared 


with  Margites. 


\ 


NOTE  29. 


P.  111.  By  such  SUCCESSIVE  IMPROVE- 
MENTS   AS    WERE    MOST    OBVIOUS. 

'Ovov  tyi¥iTo  ^uififov  auTDj — literally,  "^0  much 
of  it  as  was  manifest" — I  doubt  of  the  reading: 
but,  taking  it  as  it  stands,  I  have  given  what  ap- 
pears to  me  to  offer  itself  as  the  most  natural  and 
simple  meaning  of  the  expression,  if  not  the  only 
one  that  it  will  reasonably  bear. 


^  Fontenellc,  Preface  to  his  Comedies,  vol.vii.  ;>f  hi 
works. 


V3 


194 


NOTES. 


NOTE  30. 

P.  111-12.     jEschylus  --- 

THE    CHOKAL    PART. 


-  -  ABRIDGED 


The  words  are,  TA  m  x^^^-     Aristotle  would 

hardly  have  expressed  himself  thus,  had  he  meant, 

as  Madius,  Bayle,  and  others,  have  understood,  a 

retrenchment  in  the  number  of  choral  performers, 

TA  T8  ;^o^8,  the  choral  part,  is  opposed  to  TA  aVo 

ffKnurig,  tiie  dialogue,  Prob,  xv.  of  Sect.  19.     It  is 

singular,  that  Stanley  should  misunderstand  this 

passage;  and  still  more  singular,  that  he  should 

cite  Philostratus,  who  is  directly  airainst  him  :  for 

his  words  are,  ir\jyis-tiXi    rag   x^P^^y   AnOTAAHN 

ONTA2  :    *•'  he  contracted  the  chorusses,  which 

''*  ivere  immoderately  long^^ 

'  This  is  confirmed  by  one  of  Aristotle's  Prob- 

kms,  referred  to  by  Victorius'.  The  Problem  is 

(meaning,  I  suppose,  more  Musicians  than  the 
dramatic  Poets  of  his  own  time  :)  The  answer  is, 

II,  ^ix  TO  TroXXarrXcccKX  fjyat  tote  to,  fxiXn  iv  rong  twv 

f^iT^u3v  T^ayw(^iaK  ;— I  believe  the  passage  may  be 
rectified  by  transposition— ttoaa.  umi  tote  rx  ^iXn 
ru^y  fxiT^uiv  IV  r.  T.  Perhaps,  too,  we  shonld  read, 
T«;  TPIMETPXIN.  But,  even  taking  it  as  it  stands, 
it  may  sufficiently  answer  oui*  purpose,  as  it  shews 
_      '  clearly 

'  Stanl.  in  vit.  ^schyli,  Ed.Famv,  p.  706. 
J  Sect.  19.  Froif.  xxxi. 


NOTES.  295 

clearly  enough  how  much  the  Lyric  parts  of 
Tragedy,  before  the  time  of  JEschylus,  wanted 
contraction. 

The  prolixity  of  the  Tragic  Chorus,  we  know, 
was  sometimes  trying  to  the  patience  of  an  Athe- 
nian audience.  This  is  pleasantly  glanced  at  by 
Aristophaiies  in  his  O^yi^ig :  where  the  Chorus  of 
birds,  descanting  on  the  convenience  of  wings, 
tell  the  spectators,  that  if  thei/  had  wings,  when- 
ever, in  tlie  Theatre,  they  ^'  found  themselves 
"  hungyy,  and  were  tired  with  the  Tragic  Chorus^ 
"  they  might  fly  home  and  eat  their  dinners,  and 
"  fly  back  again,  when  the  Chorus  was  over." 

XOP. 

AVTIX,    Vf4,Ci)V    TCOV    6iOLTU)V    U    Tig    VlV    VTrOTTTSoO^, 

K1TU9  'TfCiVcoVy  Toig  x^(^^^^  "^^^  Tootymcov  iJ^Sero, 

KoLT  ai/,  6[jL7rXvi(r6eig,  6(f>  ^jtta^  av6ig  au  kutbtttuto,  . 

V.  786. 

NOTE  31. 
P.  112.    And   made  the  dialogue  the 

PRINCIPAL    PART   OF   TraGEDY. 

Victorius,  and  others,  have  supposed  Aristotle  to 
mean  the  Prologue,  But  it  seems  to  be  a  sufficient 
objection  to  this  sense,  that  no  example  has  been 

u  4  produced 


iff -R  I 


^9^  NOTES. 

produced   of  the   word    ^/,a,T«y«y,riic,    used   as 
merely  synonymous  to  irpu^ri^;  as  signifying Jirs^ 
only,  not  principal.  Nor  is  it  easy  to  discover  any 
reason,  why  Aristotle  should  have  recourse  here 
to  an  unusual  and  ambiguous  expression,  when, 
presently  after,  in  speaking  of  the  improvements 
of  Comedy  [cap.  v.],  he  makes  use  of  the  proper 
established  term,  w^oXc^i^,    There  seem  to  be  no 
words  in  the  Greek  language,  of  which  the  sense 
is  more  clearly  fixed,  than  that  of  ^/»coT«y«>,r»jf— 
*/»a,raya,wr«v.  They  occur  fi-equently,  and  always, 
as  far  as  I  know,  in  the  same  sense,  of  principal— 
primas  agere,  &c.     To  this  sense,  therefore,  I 
thought  it  necessary  to  adhere.     But  I  confess 
I  cannot  be  satisfied  with  either  of  the  explanations 
which  have  been  given  of  the  word  AOTOZ.    It 
appears  strange  to  say,  that  iEschylus/r^/  intro- 
duced  two  actors,  and  then  to  add,  as  a  distinct 
improvement,  that  he  ^ho first  introduced  a  prin- 
cipal  part  or  character  .-—unless  we  are  to  un- 
derstand,  what  seems  not  very  probable,  that  the 
two  actors  eveti  of  iEschylus  himself  were,  at 
first,  personages  of  equal  dignity  and  importance 
in  the  drama,  like  tlie  two  kings  of  Brentford  in 
the  Rehearsal ;  and  that,  afterwards,  he  was  the 
first  Who  corrected  this  error,  (in  which  he  would 
probably  have  been  followed  by  other  Poets,)  and 
reduced  the  drama  to  unity  of  action  by  a  proper 
subordination  of  characters.     But,  admitting  Uiis 
sense  to  be  without  difficulty,  the  expression  of  it, 
^  I  think, 


NOTES.  ^97 

I  think,  is  not     Aoyoc,  for  ?Lpart  in  the  drama, 
rdle,  personnage,   (as  Dacier,)   character ,  &c 
'  seems  harsh,  and  unusual.     At  least,  I  know  no 
example  of  it. 

The  difficulties  which  attend  both  the  expression 
and  the  sense,  in  each  of  tliese  interpretations, 
have  almost  convinced  me,  that  the  very  con- 
struction of  the  words  has  been  mistaken ;  and 
that  the  meaning  is,  *'  he  made  the  discourse,  or 
"  dialogue,  the  principal  part  of  Tragedy."  This 
is  well  connected  with  what  precedes,  and  agree- 
able  to  the  known  history  of  the  Tragic  drama,  in 
which,  originally,  the  Chorus  was  the  essential^ 
and  the  Episodes,  or  dramatic  part,  only  the 
accessory.  But  iEschylus  **  abridged  the  Chorus^ 
"  and  made  the  Episodic  part  the  principal:* 
Aoy®*,  here,  may  well  be  understood  to  mean 
what  Aristotle  elsewhere  calls  As^k  ;  the  speaking, 
or  recitative,  part  of  Tragedy,  whether  delivered 
by  one  or  more  actors,  as  opposed  to  the  fiiXn,  or 
Lyric  part  *.  napc<r)t£ua(r£,  reddidit,  effecit,  &c.  as, 
(to  take  the  first  instance  of  this  common  use  of 
that  verb  which  the  Lexicons  offer  me) — tuVf- 

— "  magis  pios  et  temper atos  reddidit^.'"    And 
thus  Aristotle  himself,  cap.xix,  orav  if  Ixsetva,  i 

iiivx $11^  wxpixs-xivxCety.  l  e.  to  T2iake  thino^s 

piteous, 
•  See  NOTE  90. 
Xenophon.     So  Isocrates,  Tia^aaiuuaU  ff'tauTOV  5rX£P- 
wjtTttv  ftfv  ^uvafASvov,  &c    Jd  Ddtnomcum. 


4 


*?••  w  o  T  E  ar. 

piteous,  terrible,  &c.  as  in  Goulston  s  version ; 
and  that  of  the  accurate  Piccolomini :— "  Quando 
''  occorre  d'havere  kfarparere  le  cose,  d  mise^ 
"  rabili,  d  atrocir  kc.—li  the  use  of  zrf^rocy,,. 
t»ruf  as  an  adjective  be  an  objection,  it  is  one 
to  which  the  other  explanations  are  equally  liable. 
On  the  whole,  I  have  not  scrupled  to  prefer 
Ibis  sense  in  my  version  ^ 

NOTE  32. 

P.  112.    Sophocles added  the  de- 
coration  OF   PAINTED   SCEXERY. 

To  adjust  exactly  the  rival  claims  of  iEschylus 
and  Sophocles  with  respect  to  the  Oi|/*f,  or  deco- 
ration, of  the  Tragic  stage,  would  be  a  desperate 
undertaking.  Some  accounts  are  so  liberal  to 
-flischylus,  as  scarce  to  leave  his  successors  any 
room  for  farther  improvements.  They  give  him 
"  paintings,  machinery,  altars,  tombs,  trumpets, 
"  ghosts,  and  furies :  ''—to  which  others  add  a 
very  singular  species  of  Tragic  improvement,  the 
''  exhibition   of  drunken  mnr  —  rr^v   <r.   crxn^n. 

iJ£0(r/Afi(r£,  xa»  ry\v  ij^iy  rm  huixivc^y  xocTiirXn^i  rn 
Xa^T/JornTi— rPA^AIS  xa*  iMnx^mi^y  P<^fJLOi;  n  x«i 
T^^oiff,    <r«A7r*yfii.,    iXxot?,    IpmviTi.  —  MS.   life  of 

jEschylus,  quoted  by  Stanley,  In  vitmn  JEschyli, 

.  and 

•  Since  this  note  was  written,  the  same  explanation 
has  been  given,  and  well  supported,  in  the  Camk  edit, 
of  1785.    PrarAp.xxxi.  5ic. 


NOTES.  J95 

and  by  Tahric,  Bib,  Gr.  lib,  \\,  cap,  xvi.  Sect,  2. — 

And  AtheticBus  says,  ^t/jwt^   Uny^ -Trapn* 

yotyt  my  rm    ME0TONTriN    O^IN  I;  rpccy^^Sixv. 

p.  428.— He  adds  an  example.  In  the  Tragedy 
called  Ka^ftpot,  he  introduced  *'  Jason  and  his 
retinue  dru?ik!" 

The  passage  given  by  Dacier  from  Vitruvius 
is  very  general ;  it  says  only,  ''  scena)n  fccit\^ 
This  may,  or  may  not,  include  painting ;  which, 
indeed,  rather  seems  to  be  implied,  in  what  fol- 
lows, about  the  improvements  of  Democritus  and 
Anaxagoras,  where  the  **  imagines  aedificiorum 
^'  in  scenarum  picturis  "  are  mentioned.  But  all 
this  is  far  outweighed  by  the  testimony  of  Aristotle, 
who  here  explicitly  attributes  the  introduction  of 
painted  scenery  to  Sophocles. 

NOTE  33. 
P.  112.  It  was  late  before  Tragedy- -- 

ATTAINED  ITS  PROPER  DIGNITY. 

• — OiJ/E  a7rE(TS[Amin  : — and  to  *^  late,''  we  might 
add,  imperfectly.  For,  what  Horace  says  of  the 
Roman  Tragedy,  is,  in  so^ne  measure,  though  per- 
haps not  equally,  applicable  to  the  Greek  : 

in  longum  tamen  aevum     ' 

Manserunt,  hodieque  manent  vestigia  ruris. 

Ep,  ad  Aug,  V,  1 60. 

Prejudice 

*  Primus  Agatharcus  Athenls,  ^schylo  docentc 
Tragcediam,  scenam  fecir.    Yipruv.  Pnef  in  lib,  vii. 


L 


>f,\ 


yso  NOTES. 

Prejudice  aside,  it  cannot  surely  be  said,  that  th« 
Greek  Tragedy,  in  the  hands,  at  least,  of  ^Eschylus, 
Sophocles,  or  Euripides,  ever  attained  its  proper 
dignity,     I  do  not  speak  of  viodern  dignity  ;  of 
that  uniform,  unremitting  strut  of  pomp  and  so- 
lemnity, which  is  now  required  in  Tragedy,  This 
was  equally  unknown  to  the  manners,  and  to  the 
Poetry,  of  the  antients.     I  speak  only  of  such  a 
degree  of  dignity  as  excludes,  not  simplicity,  but 
meanness— the  familiar,  the  jocose,  the  coarse,  the 
comic.    Now  it  cannot,  I  think,  be  said,  with  any 
truth,  that  these  are  thoroughly  excluded  in  any 
of  the  Greek  Tragedies  that  are  extant :  in  some 
of  them  they  are  admitted  to  a  very  considerable 
degree.     In  particular,  something  of  this  sort — 
of  what  the  French  call  mesquin—'is  almost  con- 
stantly to  be  found  m  the  short  dialogue  of  the 
Greek  Tragedies ;  in  that  part,  I  mean,  which  the 
eye,  when  we  turn  over  any  Tragedy,  easily  dis- 
tinguishes from  the  rest,  by  its  being  carried  on  in 
a  regular  alternation  of  single  verses*.     In  this 
"  close  fighting"  of  the  dialogue,  as  Dryden  calls 
it^  which  seems  to  have  retained  something  of  the 

spirit 

^»~— «— i^^^^— ^.^»^_^^______^^ . 

•  A  sensible  writer  has  justly  remarked  the  ill  effect 
of  this  symmetrical  sort  of  conversation  upon  the  il- 
lusion of  the  drama.  [Letters  on  various  subjects,  by 
Mr.  Jackson  of  Exeter,  vol.  ii.  p.  109.]  The  English 
reader  may  see  an  example  of  it  in  Milton's  Comus^ 
V.277 — 290. 

J  Essay  on  Dram.  Poesy. 


NOTES.  s^ 

spirit  of  the  old  satyric  diverbia,  where,  in  tbeori^n 
of  the  Greek,  as  well  as  of  the  Roman  drama, 

Versibus  alternis  opprohria  rusticafundu7it^ 

HoR. 

— in  this  part  of  the  dialogue,  we  generally  find, 
mixed  indeed  frequently  with  fine  strokes  of 
nature  and  feeling,  somewhat  more  than  what 
Brumoy  calls  "  un  petit  vernis  de  familiarite*";* 
especially  when  these  scenes  are,  as  they  often 
are,  scenes  of  altercation  and  angry  repartee.  In 
the  Ip/rigcnia  in  Aulidc  of  Euripides,  Menelaus, 
in  the  struggle  with  the  old  messenger  for  tlie 
letter,  threatens  to  break  his  head  with  his  sceptre^ 

V.  311. 
Fairly  rendered  by  Mr.  Potter's  verse — 

"  Soon  shall  thy  head  this   sceptre  stain  with 
"  blood." 

Unfairly  dignified  by  Brumoy's  prose — 

"  Prends  garde  qu  une  nio?^t  prompte  ne  punisse 
**  ton  audace." 

Even  Sophocles,  who  gave  the  Tragic  tone,  in 
general,  its  proper  pitch,  between  the  oyx<^  of 
iEschylus,  and  the  la-^iforyi^  of  Euripides'*,  is  by 

no 

'  Theatre  des  Grecs,  tome  iii.  p.  205. 
^  Aristophanes,  in  T/ii  Frogs,  makes  Euripides  boast 
to  iEschylus  -  -  - 

—  tt»5  iraf fXajSov  tw  Tf^ynv  itcx^a  an  to  Tr^arov  tvQuq 
Oi^Ho-at  i/JTO  xefMTrcuTfJiaruv  xai  ^rj/xaruv  iTraxOuv 
IZXNANA  /ttfv  TT^uTirov  avrjv,  hm  to  $a^^  a^eiMv, 

v.  490. 


«■    s« 


«'^ 


NOTES. 

* 

BO  means  free  from  some  mixtCire  of  this  alloj/  in 
the  language  of  his  short  dialogue.  For  example: 
in  the  scene  between  Ulysses  and  Neoptolemus 
in  the  Philoctetes,  [v.  1250.]  when  Neoptolemus 
declares  his  resolution  of  restoring  to  Philoctetes 
his  bow  and  arrows,  at  which  Ulysses  expresses 
his  surprise  by  a  repetition  of  the  question,  T» 
fw; — Tiy  fl^»ixaf  Xoyoy; — Neoptolemus  replies, 
**  Would  you  have  me  tell  you  the  name  thing  two 
•'  or  three  times  over?'' 

V.  1267. 

In  another  scene  of  this  Poet,  between  Teucer 
and  Menelaus,  after  a  long  altercation  about  the 
interment  of  Ajax,  Menelaus  says — 

—to  which  Teucer  replies — 

In  plain  English,  but  no  plainer  than  the  G  reek— 
"  M.  One  thing  I'll  tell  you— he  shall  not  be 

, ^^  "  buried. 

•  The  reader  may  also  see  something  of  the  same  cast 
in  the  scene  between  Oedipus  and  Creon,  OcyI.  Tyr, 
V.  55<^>  ^c.  And  in  that  between  Oedipus  and  the  two 
Shepherds,  v.  1 1 62,  &c.  —  These  scenes  of  snarling 
altercation,  I  suppose,  were  what  gave  occasion  to  the 
ridiculous  idea  of  some  Comic  Poet,  that  "  Sophocki 
"  seemed  to  have  been  assisted,  in  writing  his  Tragedies,  by 
*^  a  mastiff' dog,** 

ILvw  Tij  iWt  (TVfMTroieiv  M^aottu©-.    Diog,  Laert.  IV.  2o, 
'  JJax,  V.  159,  160. 


NOTES.  303 

"  buried.  T.  And  I'll  tell  another  thing — he 
*'  shall  be  buried," — Certainly  this  approaches 
very  nearly  to  the  language  of  a  contest  between 
two  washerwomen. 

These  may  be  reckoned  among  the  passages,  in 
which  the  spirit  of  Sophocles,  according  to  the 
observation   of  a  great  critic,   c^ivwroii  dxoyQ)^ 

iroXXftXK,    xai  vittth   ccTV^ira^roc.   [Longin,  Sect,  33.] 

.In  tlie  Antigone  there  is  a  scene  of  altercation 
between  Creon,  Ismene,  and  Arftigone,  in  which, 
when  Ismene,  pleading  for  her  sister,  asks  Creon 
whether  he  will  put  her  to  death,  who  was  to 
Ix^come  the  wife  of  his  son,  his  answer  is — • 

APnilMOI  ya^  %aTffwy  elcriv  ^YAI^ 

The  prejudiced  admirers  of  the  antients  are 
very  angry  at  the  least  insinuation  that  they  had 
any  idea  of  our  barbarous  Tragi-Comedy.  But 
after  all,  it  cannot  be  dissembled,  that,  if  they 
had  not  the  name,  they  had  the  thing,  or  some- 
thing very  nearly  approaching  to  it.  If  that  be 
Tragi-Comedy,  w  hich  is  partly  serious  and  partly 
comical,  I  do  not  know  why  we  should  scruple  to 
say,  that  the  Alcestis  of  Euripides  is,  to  all  intents 
and  purposes,  a  Tragi-Comedy.  I  have  not  the 
least  doubt,  that  it  had  upon  an  Athenian  audi- 
ence the  proper  effect  of  Tragi-Comedy ;  that  is, 

that 


*  V.  576.  This  is  not  much  more  delicate  than  the 
answer  of  one  of  the  Egyptian  fugitives  10  King  Psam- 
meticus.— //ifr^^.  Eutcrp,  p,6^,  cd.  H,  Steph, 


/ 


NOTES. 

that  in  some  places  it  made  thtm  cry,  and  in  others, 
laugh.  And  the  best  thing  we  have  to  hope,  for 
the  credit  of  Euripides,  is,  that  he  intended  to 
produce  this  effect.  For  though  he  may  be  an 
tinskilfui  Poet,  who  purposes  to  write  a  Tragi- 
comedy, he  surely  is  a  more  unskilful  Poet,  who 
writes  one  without  knowing  it. 

The  learned  reader  will  understand  me  to  allude 
particularly  to  the  scene,  in  which  the  domestic 
describes  the  behaviour  of  Hercules ;  and  to 
the  speech  of  Hercules  himself,  which  follows. 
Notliing  can  well  be  of  a  more  comic  cast  than 
the  servant's  complaint  \  He  describes  tlie  hero 
as  the  most  greedy  *  and  ill-mannered  guest  he  had 
ever  attended,  under  his  master's  hospitable  roof; 
calling  about  him,  eating,  drinking,  and  singings 
in  a  room  by  himself ^  while  the  master  and  all  the 
family  were  in  the  height  of  funereal  lamentation. 

He 


Jv 


'  Jlcestis,  V.  757,  &c. 

*  Hercules  was  renowned  for  his  oJ^^ayw.  The 
following  extravagant  description  of  his  eating,  pre- 
served by  Athenaeus  from  the  Busiris,  a  satyric  dranoa 
of  Epicharmus,  affords  a  curious  specimen  of  the 
fatyric  fun, 

n^wTov  /Kfv,  ouK  hQavT*  /5Vif  vtv,  aTToQavoig, 

Zi^""  ^f.T«5  pin(r<ri,  KINEI  A*  'OTATA 

Tuv  Tirpavo^m  k^  bttov  -  -  -     Athcn»  lih^x,  init. 


N^  O    T    E    S.  305 

He  was  not  contented  with  such  refreshments  as 
had  been  set  before  him ; 

Tec  TTOOO'TVXOVTU  ^tVlCC 

AXX'  bI  Ti  fJLJi  (pi^oifjLiv,  XITPTNEN  (pB^eiv, 
Then  he  drinks — 

OiVif' 

— crowns  himself  with  myrtle,  and  sings,  AMOTZ* 
TAAKTXIN  —  and  all  this,  alone.  "  Cette  des- 
"  cription,"  says  Fontenelle,  *^  est  si  burlesque, 
"  qu'on  diroit  d'un  crocheteur  qui  e«t  de  con- 
"  frairie*."  A  censure  somewhat  justified  by 
Euripides  himself,  who  makes  the  servant  take 
Hercules  for  a  thief: 

—  TTocva^yov  KAIirTA  xui  AHIITHN  rtva. 

The  speech  of  Hercules,  ^iXo^o^avr^  h  ^£9if, 
as  the  scholiast  observes,  (v.  776,)  "  philosophiz- 
"  ing  in  his  cups,"  is  still  more  curious  It  is, 
indeed,  full  of  the  ^Xof  o^s,  and  completely  jus- 
tifies the  attendant's  description.  Nothing  can 
be  more  jolly.  It  is  in  the  true  spirit  of  a 
modem  drinki^ig  song ;  recommending  it  to  the 
servant  to  uncloud  his  brow,  enjoy  the  present 
hour,  think  nothing  of  the  morrow,  and  drown 
his  cares  in  love  and  xvifie: 

'OTTOS 

*  CEuvres  de  Font,  vol.ix.  p.  41 5. 
VOL.   I,  X 


3o6  NOTE     S. 

'OTTO£  ^-—Ti  ctfAvov  itMt  'Ttifp^ovrtuJ^  iSXis'trf  $ 

OU  XP^  CXV^^CttTTOV,  X.  T.  aX. 

AETP    EA8 ,  oTTcac  ^v  koli  (ro(puTifO*  yivy. 
Ta  Svrjra  ir^ay^Mbr  olSa^  ^v  l^st  (puo'tvi 
OIMAI  pgy  'or   nOGEN  rAPj— aXX'  ax»g  fin. 
B^OToig  oLTToun  KarGocvBtv  ofBtXsrou, 
K*  ifx  ff <  fi»^&;v  J^*f  l^iTTis-otrai 
Tfiv  otv^io¥  fiiXXi5(rocv  el  (iic»i<riroci. 


Eyp^tvt  (TMUTov '  niNE  ! — rov  kci9  ^fieoocv 
Biov  Xoyt^jt  (Tov,  rot,  V  aAXac,  Triq  ru^iy^. 
TifJM  C€  Kxi  Trjv  TrXBKTTOv  ^^t^v  6ecav 
KTnPIN  l3^oT0i<nv — k.  t.  X,  v,  783—812. 

If  any  man  can  read  this,  without  supposing  it 
to  have  set  tlie  audience  in  a  roai\  I  certainly 
cannot  demonstrate  that  he  is  mistaken.  I  can 
only  say,  that  I  think  he  must  be  a  very  grave 
man  himselt^  and  must  forget  that  the  Athenians 
were  not  a  very  grave  people.  The  zeal  of  Pere 
Brumoy  in  defending  tliis  Tragedy,  betrays  him 
into  a  little  indiscretion.  He  says,  ''  tout  cela 
"  i  fait  penser  \  quelques  critiques  modernes 
"  que  cette  piece  etoit  une  Tragicomedie ; 
"  chimere  inconnu  aux  anciens.  Cette  piece 
*'  tst  da  gout  dts  autres  Tragedies  antiques\"' 

Indeed 


NOTES. 


307 


*  '^  You,  fellow  !  "—Mr.  Potter's  translation. 
'   Tome  iii.  p,  to^. 


Indeed  they,  who  call  this  play  a  Tragi-Comedy, 
give  it  rather  a  favourable  name;  for,  in  the 
scenes  alluded  to,  it  is,  in  fact,  of  a  lower  species  ^ 
than  our  Tragi-Comedy :  it  is,  rather,  3e/r- 
lesque  Tragedy ;  what  Demetrius  calls  r^ayufiA 
▼a»f ««•«".  Much  of  the  comic  cast  prevails  in 
other  scenes ;  though  mixed  with  those  genuine 
strokes  of  simple  and  universal  nature,  which 
abound  in  this  Poet,  and  which  I  should  be 
sorry  to  exchange  for  that  monotonous  and 
unaffecting  level  of  Tragic  dignity,  which  never 
falls,  and  never  rises. 

I  will  only  mention  one  more  instance  of  this 
Tragi-comic  mixture,  and  that  from  Sophocles. 
The  dialogue  between  Minerva  and  Ulysses,  in 
the  first  scene  of  the  ^Ijcw,  from  v.  74  to  88,  is 
perfectly  ludicrous.  The  cowardice  of  Ulysses 
is  almost  as  comic  as  the  cowardice  of  Falstaff. 
In  spite  of  the  presence  of  Minerva,  and  her 
previous  assurance,  tliat  she  would  effectually 
^uard  him  from  all  danger  by  rendering  him 
invisible,  when  she  calls  Ajax  out,  Ulysses,  in  the 
utmost  trepidation,  exclaims — 

T*  S^ug,  AQuvui  fifjSxficog  <r(p*  s^eo  iiotXti^. 

Minerva 

"  ITefi  Ef|».  §  170. — ^"O  h  yeX6)^j  says  this  writer, 
tX^f^  TforyfljS/aj.  Neither  Euripides,  nor  Sophocles, 
seem  to  have  held  this  as  an  inviolable  maxim. 

'  V.  74. — Anglic e,  **  ff/iat  arc  you  about,  Mintrva  f — 
by  no  means  call  him  out." 

X  2 


V 

"'I 


3o8  NOTES. 

Minerva  answers : — 

But  Ulysses  cannot  conquer  his  fears : — 

MH,  nPOZ  0EHN — aXX*  li/Sov  d^KHTca  usvcov^. 

And  in  this  tone  the  conversation  continues ;  till, 
upon  Minerva's  repeating  her  promise  tliat  Ajax 
should  not  see  him,  he  consents  to  stay;  but  in 
a  line  of  most  comical  recluctance,  and  witli 
an  aside,  that  is  in  the  true  spirit  of  Sancho 
Panf a : — 

Mevo^fJL'  iif'  HGEAON  A*  AN  EKTOS  XIN 
TTXEIN^ 

No  unprejudiced  person,  I  tliink,  can  read  tins 
scene  without  being  convinced,  not  only,  that  it 
must  have  actually  produced,  but  that  it  must 
have  b^en  intended  to  produce,  the  effect  of 
Comedy. 

It  appears,  indeed,  to  me,  that  we  may  plainly 
trace  in  the  Greek  Tragedy,  with  all  its  improve- 
ments, and  all  its  beauties,  pretty  strong  marks 
of  its  popular  and  Tragi-comic  origin.  For, 
T^«yw^*a,  we  are  told,  was,  originally,  the  only 

dramatic 

—  ■  ,  

®  *'  Will  you  not  be  silent,  and  lay  aside  your  fears!" 
^  "  Pon't  call  him  out,  for  heaven's  sake : — let  him 
stay  within." 

*  ''  Pll  stay— fflj/W<p;  but  I  wish  I  was  not  herer^ 
"  J'avoue,"  says  Brumoy,  "  que  ce  trait  n'est  pas  a  la 
''  louaiige  d'Ulysse,  ni  de  Sophocle."  {Jom  iii.) 


NOTES.  309 

dramatic  appellation';  and  when,  afterwards,  the 
ludicrous  was  separated  from  the  serious,  and 
distinguished  by  its  appropriated  name  of  Comedi/, 
the  separation  seems  to  have  been  imperfectly 
made,  and  Tragedy,  distinctively  so  called,  seems 
still  to  have  retained  a  tincture  of  its  oricrinal 
merriment.  Nor  will  this  appear  strange,  if  we 
consider  the  popular  nature  of  tlie  Greek  spec- 
tacles. The  people,  it  is  probable,  would  still  re- 
quire, even  in  the  midst  of  their  Tragic  emotion, 
a  little  dash  of  their  old  satj'ric  Juyi,  and  Poets 
were  obliged  to  comply,  in  some  degree,  with 
their  taste'. 

When 


'  Casauh.  De  Sat.   Poesi,  p.  2X,  22. — Con?tat  sane 
primis    tcmporibus    ignoratum    fuisse   discrimen    inter 

Tragoediam  et  Comoediam : nam  et  T^iryv^ia  et 

Tfa7«?ia,  primituis  nomen  fuit  commune,  quod  postea 
^ito-'/raa-Qv,  ut  ait  Aristoteles,  et  Veteres  critici  testantur. 
Idem  ;  [sc.  Athenaus]  r^ayu^ia^  ro  Tra^aicf^  wy  ovofjuz  tioivov 
MM  v^of  Tirv  Kw^JiaV  vrt^ov  fc,  to  fjuv  hoivov  ovofia  hxev  h 

•  *'  Scenical  representations,  being  then  intended,  not, 
"  as  in  our  days,  for  the  entertainment  of  the  better  sort, 
**  but  on  certain  great  solemnities,  indifferently  for  the 
«*  diversion  of  the  whole  citv,  it  became  necessary  to 
"  consult  the  taste  of  the  multitude,  as  well  as  of  those, 
*«  quibus  est  equus,  ct  pater,  et  res,**  Notes  on  Hort  vol,  i. 
p.  93.  See  also  p.  195. — Plato  calls  Tragedy,  rnj 
wmmwi  AHMOTEPnEITATON  ti  km  if^vxayuypunaroy. 
Min,  vol,  ii.  p*32l«  Sfrr, 

X3 


I 


310  NOTES. 

When  we  speak  of  the  Greek  Tragedies  as 
correct  and  perfect  models,  we  seem  merely  to 
conform  to  the  established  language  of  preju- 
dice, and  content  ourselves  \\h\^  echoing,  without 
reflection  or  examination,  what  has  been  said 
before  us.  Lord  Shuftsbury,  for  example,  talks 
of  Tragedy's  being  "  raised  to  its  height  by 
"  Sophocles  and  Euripides,  and  no  rootn/eftfor 
**  further  excdknce  or  emulation^  Advice  to 
an  Author,  Part  II.  Sect.  2.  where  the  reader 
may  also  see  his  unwarrantable  and  absurd  in- 
terpretation of  Ariiitotle  s  phrase,  iVx?  Tuir  lauTnc 
fuo-iF,  by  which  he  makes  the  pliilosopher, 
'*  declare,  that  whatever  idea  might  be  formed  of 
"  ttie  utmost  perfection  of  tlie  kind  of  Poem,  it 
''  could^  in  practice,  rise  no  higher  than  it  had 
*'  been  already  carried  in  his  time.''  I  should  be 
sorry  to  be  ranked  in  the  class  of  those  critics, 
who  prefer  that  Poetry  which  has  the  fewest 
faults,  to  that  which  has  the  greatest  beauties'. 
I  mean  only  to  combat  that  conventional  and 

hearsay 

"  .  I-      I    . 

h  evwtf  ^ittf4a^fA£vcv,  ri,  to  ffufjLfAi^^ov  fxiv  iv  t«hj  Horo^^fAoa-iVy 
kytsi  Ji  Travrn  nai  a^ia^nurov.  Long.  Sect.  ^^,  The 
trytz;  Tromi  hcu  si^kaTrrurov  is,  surely,  by  no  means  th* 
character  of  the  Greek  Tragedians.  They  who  think 
it  worth  searcliing  for  must  lay  asi.le  Sophocles,  and 
Shakspeare.  In  the  French  Theatre,  perhaps,  they 
may  find  it ;  but  they  must  be  content,  I  fear,  to  take 
with  it,  the  (TVfjLfjLET^ov  h  lotg  wnrrnr^jiiaTr 
4 


NOTES.  311 

hearsay  kind  of  pmise,  which  has  so  often  held 
out  tlie  Tragedies  of  the  Greek  Poets,  as  elaborate 
and  perfect  models,  such  as  had  received  the  last 
polish  of  art  and  meditation.  The  true  praise  of 
-^chylus,  Sophocles,  and  Euripides,  is,  (in  hind 
at  least,  though  not  in  degree,)  the  praise  of 
Shakspeare;  that  of  strong,  but  irregular,  unequal, 
and  hasty  genius.  Every  thing,  which  this  genius 
and  the  feeling  of  the  moment  could  produce,  in 
an  early  period  of  the  art,  before  time,  and  long 
experience,  and  criticism,  had  cultivated  and  re- 
fined it,  these  writers  possess  in  great  abundance: 
what  meditation,  and  "  the  labour  and  delay  of 
"  the  fde'  only  can  effect,  they  too  often  w ant. 
Of  Shakspeare,  however,  compared  with  tlie 
Greek  Poets,  it  may  justly,  I  think,  be  pro- 
nounced, that  he  has  much  more,  both  of  this 
want,  and  of  that  abundance. 

NOTE    34. 

P.  112.      Originally,    the    Trochaic 

TETRAMETER   WAS    MADE    USE    OF,    &C. 

As  the  Trochaic  measure  was  still  occasion- 
ally admitted,  even  in  the  improved  and  serious 
Greek  Tragedy,  and,  in  particular,  occurs  very 
frequently  in  the  Tragedies  of  Euripides,  it  is 
natural  to  suppose,  that  a  still  more  frequent  use 
of  it  would  be  one  of  the  characteristics  of  the 
satyric  drama,  which  seems  to  have  been  only  a 

X  4  V   sort 


312  NOTES. 

«ort  of  revival,  in  an  improved  and  regular  form, 
of  the  old  Trochaic  Tragedy  *  with  its  cliorus  of 
dancing  satyrs  \  It  seems  therefore  ^somewhat 
remarkable,  though  I  have  not  seen  it  noticed, 
that  m  the  only  satyric  drama  extant,  the 
Cyclops,  and  that  written  by  Euripides,  who 
has  made  so  much  use  of  this  measure  in  his 
Tragedies,  not  a  single  Trochaic  tetrameter  is 
to  be  found. 


NOTE   35. 
P.  113.    The  Iambic  is,  of  all  metres^ 

THE    MOST    COLLOQUIAL,    &C. 

Compare  Rhet.  lib.  iii.  cap.  i.  and  cap.  viii. 
Ed.  Duval.    And  Demtt.  Jli^i  'Ej^.  Sect.  43. 

xoTE  ;^6. 

P.  113-  -  -  -  SELDOM  INTO  HEXAMETER, 
AND  ONLY  WHEN  WE  DEPART  FROM  THE 
USUAL    MELODY    OF    SPEECH. 

It  has  been  thought  strange,  that  Aristotle 
should  introduce  here  the  mention  oiheMmeters, 
when  he  has  been  speaking  only  oi  Trochaic  and 
Iambic  verse,  and  is  accounting  for  the  adoption 

of 


*  Aristotle's  expression  on  this  subject  elsewhere,  is, 

TO  la^siov  (AiTi^n(rav,  &cc.    Rhet.  iii.  j.         ' 
^  See  Casaub.  dc  Sai,  Pm.  Ub.  I  c.  3. 


NOTES.  313 

of  the  latter,  in  preference,  not  to  the  hexameter^ 
but  to  the  Trochaic  tetrameter:  and  it  has, 
therefore,  been  doubted,  whether  we  should  not 
read  rtr^uiAtrfot*,  .  But  the  established  reading, 
I  believe,  is  right.  The  Trochaic  tetrameter, 
Aristotle  has,  both  here,  and  in  his  Rhetoric,  cha- 
racterized as  (TotTu^ixok — r^o^i^op — i^^fifiKUTiooy — 
and  even  Ko^iocx^xton^ov^.  He  did  not,  I  appre- 
hend, consider  it  as  being,  in  any  degree,  Xtxrixou. 
It  was  therefore  entirely  out  of  the  question, 
when  a  metre  proper  for  the  general  dialogue  of 
Tragedy  was  to  be  sought  for :  but  the  hexameter 
was  not  so;  and  it  might,  without  absurdity,  be 
asked  by  an  objector,  as  Castelvetro  and  Picco- 
lomini  have  observed,  why  that  species  of  verse 
was  not  adopted ;  especially  as  the  Tragic  Poets 
were  the  successors  of  the  Epic,  or  Heroic*", 
and  Homer,  according  to  Plato,  was  **  the  first 
"  of  Tragic  Poets^.  As  its  character  was  grave 
and  stately,  it  might  seem,  on  that  account,  well 
adapted  to  Tragedy,  where,  indeed,  we  actually 
find  it  occasionally  introduced.  But  Aristotle 
objects  to  it  as  less  proper,  because,  though 
vifAyov,  it  was  at  the  same  time,  »  Awxixoi'*.     He 

*  allows, 


•  Ed,  Ox.  1780,  p.  277. 

^  See  above,  note  8.  and*. 

*  — ant    Tuv   eTToiVy    T^ayuMi^aa^taXti.   ch,  iv#     TransU 
Tart  I    Sect  6. 

*  — 9rpTov  Twy  Tfoyw^iwrowyy. — Repub.  lib,  x.  p.  607. 

*  i^>^^/.  iii.  8. 


3M  NOTES. 

allows,  however,  that  it  was  not  so  remote  from 
"the  rh3/thm  of  common  speech,  but  that  it  might 
be  casually  produced,  like  the  Iambic,  though  it 
rarely  happened  ^  He  even  goes  so  far,  as  to 
allow,  in  his  concluding  chapter,  that  Tragedy 
"  fnight  adopt  the  Epic  metreK''—All  this  seems 
to  afford  sufficient  support  to  the  common  reading. 
The  Jleroic  and  Iambic  feet  are,  in  the  same 
manner,  considered  together,  Rhet.  iii.  8. 

By  AixTixn  a^/*ow<»,  Aristotle  means  what  Aris- 
loxenus  calls  MEAOX  Xeyuht^.  We  must  not 
suppose  him  to  use  the  word  «^/xovi«  here,  in  that 
lax  and  general  sense,  in  which  we  commonly 

apply 


'  Sec  Qjifttil.  lib,  ix.  ch.  4.-~The  most  singular  in- 
stance of  involuntary  versification  that  I  ever  met  with, 
is  to  be  found,  where  no  one  would  expect  to  find  such 
a  thing,— in  Dr.  Smith's  System  of  Optics.  The  47th 
Sect,  of  ch/ii.  book  i,  begins  thus : 

'•  When  parallel  rays 

**  Come  contrary  ways 

•'  And  fall  upon  opposite  sides'* 

If,  as  QuintiJian  says,  *'  Versum  in  orationc  £cri, 
'^  multo  foeJissimum  est,  totum  ;  sicut  etiam  in  farte,  dc* 
**  forme" — what  would  he  have  said  to  half  an  Ana- 
paestic stanza,  in  rhyme,  produced  in  a  mathematical  book, 
the  author  of  which,  too,  was  supposed  to  have  pos- 
sessed an  uncommon  delicacy  of  ear? 

«  —TO)  /xfTjw  [sc.  Tn?  Iroxoiio,']  fieri  XfH^^ib.    Caf,  ult. 

^  Harmon  .  lib.  i.  p,  i8.  Ed,  Mcib. — A^tAonm^  here,  is 
ccjuivalent  to  ^^,  as  chap.  i.  iv.  vi.  tco. 


NOTES.  31^ 

apply  it  to  the  rhythm  of  speech,  when  we  tallT 
of  the  harmony  of  a  verse  or  a  period.  He 
speaks  with  his  usual  accuracy.  Speech,  as  well 
as  Music,  has  its  melody  and  its  rhythm  \  and 
these,  in  speech  animated  by  passion,  are  so 
modified,  as  to  approach,  more  or  less  percep- 
tibly, to  musical  melody  and  rhythm*.  And 
what  Aristotle  here  asserts,  I  think,  is,  tliat  the 
Greeks  seldom,  or  never,  departed  so  far  from 
tlie  usual  rhythm  of  speech,  as  to  run  into 
hexameter  verse,  except  when  they  were,  led, 
by  the  same  cause,  to  depart  equally  from  its 
usual  melodi/  or  tones. 


NOTE  37. 

P.  113.  The  Episodes  were  multi- 
plied.   -    -    - 

The  mistakes,  mto  which  some  commentators 
have  been  led  by  annexing  to  the  term  Eirfi0-o^i«y, 
as  applied  by  Aristotle  to  Tragedy,  the  modem" 
and  Epic  idea  of  a  digression,  "  hors-daeuvre, 
intemietk,  morceau  d'attache^"  have  been  well 
pointed  out  by  Le  Bossu,  Tr.  du  Poeme  Ep. 
liv.  ii.  ch.  iv.  v.  vL^  But  he  appears  to  me  to 
have  gone  too  far,  and  to  have  fellen  into  tlie 

opposite 

*  Sec  Diss.  II.  p.  77,78.  and  note  «. 

*  £atteux*s  note  on  this  passage. 

*  The  Abbe  D*Airf>ignac  had  led  the  way,  in  hit 
Pratique  du  Thc^tri^  liv.  ni.  c^.  i. 


St*  NOTES. 

opposite  error,  hy  extending  the  word  even  to 
the  most  essential  parts  of  the  general  action,  to 
which  he  will  not  allow  the  iTttfro^^a  to  be,  in 
any  sense,  added,  unitedy  &c.— but  insists  that  they 
constitute    that  action,  "  comme   Ics   membres 
"  sont  la  matiere  des  corps  *."    With  this  idea, 
he  had,  indeed,  some  reason  to  call  the  word 
ffTfir*/if»,  ••  teruic  trompcur ;"  for,  in  this  appli- 
cation of  it,  all  sight  of  its  etyinological  sense  is 
lost    By  all  that  I  can  gather  from  an  attentive 
comparison  of  all  the  passages  in  which  Aristotle 
uses  the  word,  there  appears  to  me  no  reason  to 
suppose,  .that  he  any  where  meant  to  apply  it 
indiscriminately  to  all  the  incidents  of  a  fable  ; 
and  it  is  for  this  reason  that  I  have  no  where 
ventured  to  render  it  by  the  word  inciditit,  which 
would  have  been  too  general  \    Le  Bossu's  de- 
finition is,  — "  Les  Episodes  sont  les  parties  m- 
"  cessaires  de  faction  etendues  axec  dcs  circori'- 
"  stances  vraiscmblables:'~Jhe  deatli  of  Cato, 
for  example,  in  tlie  Tragedy  of  Addison,  answers 
to  this  definition.     But  would   Aristotle    have 
called  that  an  Episode  f    I  can  scarce  think  it. 
The  most  I  can  conceive  is,  that  he  might  have 
applied  the  term  Xwutr^hoL  to  the  particular  cir- 
cumstances 


•  Oiap,  vi. 

^  For  the  incidents  in  general^  without  distinction  of 
essential  cr  episodic,  Aristotle's  word  seems  to  be^^*^^ 
i^tfm  of  the  action.    So,  <r/5.  viii.  and  xxiv. 


NOTES.  317 

cumstances  and  detail  of  the  action,  which  were 
the  additiofis  of  the  Poet's  fancy.  I^  Bossu 
mentions,  as  an  instance,  the  escape  of  Orestes 
by  means  of  the  ablution,  in  tlie  Iphig.  in  Taur. 
of  Euripides ;  which,  he  says,  Aristotle  calls  an 
Episode^.  But,  it  is  not  tlie  escape  of  Orestes, 
{i  (rorrnf  i»)  that  Aristotle  so  denominates ;  this 
was  an  essential  circumstance,  and  is  expressly 
included  by  him  in  that  general  sketch  of  the 
plot,  into  which  the  iViio-o^»«  were  afterwards  to 
be  worked :  and  one  of  these  Episodes  was  the 
detail  of  the  manner  in  which  the  escape  wag 
effected,  /»«  ruf  xata^o-fwc — See  note  143. 

The  word  iwuo'oiiQif  is,  I  think,  used  by  Aristotle 
only  in  two  senses :  1 .  The  technical  sense,  in 
which  it  is  clearly  defined  to  mean,  all  that  part ^ 
ory  rather^  those  partSy  of  a  Tragedy ^  that  art 
included  between  entire  choral  odts\  2.  It  is 
evidently  applied,  in  other  passages,  to  the  par- 
ticular/?ar/^,  subordinate  actions,  circumstances, 
or  incident s^  of  tlie  fable;  but  only,  I  think,  to 
such,  as  were  not  essential  parts  of  the  Poet's 
plan  or  story,  though  they  might  be,  and  indeed 
ought  to  be,  closely  connected  with  it  :—such,  as, 
however  important  in  the  action,  by  contributing 
to  promote  the  catastrophe,  were  yet  no  way 
necessitated  by  history,  or  popular  tradition,  or,  in 

subjects 


«*■ 


•  C-^.xvii. — Transl.  Part  II.  Sect.  17. 
'  CK  xii. —  TramU  Part  II.  SccU  10. 


3i8  N    O    T    E    f . 

subjects  of  pure  invention,  by  the  Poet's  general 
and  determined  plan,  but  depended  on  the  in- 
vention or  the  choice  of  the  Poet,  who  might, 
without  any  alteration  in  the  xaJoXx  AoyO»,  as 
Aristotle  calls  it,  of  his  drama,  have  conducted 
the  action  to  its  catastrophe  by  different  means  ^ 
The   word    Ifrua-oiioy,   then,    appears    to  me 
never  to  be  used  by  Aristotle  but  in  its  proper 
and  derivative  sense,  of  sometliing  more  or  less 
adventitious  or  accessory — something  inserted, 
superadded,   i?Uroduced\   at   pleasure,    by    the 
Poet     But  the  Epic  Poem,  from  its  extent  of 
plan,  and  the  variety  requisite  to  its  purpose, 
admits,    and   requires,    subordinate   actions    of 
greater  length  and  slighter  relation  to  the  prin- 
cipal action  of  the  fable,  than  is  consistent  with 
the  shorter  compass,  closer  unity  *,  and  different 
end,   of  Tragedy.     As   the   Episodes  of    Epic 

Poetry, 

«  This  distinction  is  very  well  illustrated  by  Lc  Bossu, 
//v.  ii.  ch.  V.  *'  Mais,  s*il  ctoit  neccssaire,"  &c. — to  the 
end.  But,  in  odier  respects,  this  chapter  is  embrouille. 
He  confounds  (as  the  reader  will  sec  by  his  marginal 
quotations)  oiMiov,  proper,  natural^  connected,  &c.  with 
AoiP — necessary f  essential  to  the  story,  &c.  He  confounds 
an  Episode  with  an  essential  action  episoded,  i.  c.  extended 
and  filled  up  by  episodic  or  invented  circumstances. 

*  Ev  li  roi;  rffthiMTiMOii  [Aoroif],  3b  tot  >^(n  EIIEirO- 
AIOTN  hrcuvoiiy  biof  ItroH^an^  ttoiw  oust  fotf  Tiia  EliSATEI. 
Rhet,  iii.  cap.  xvii.  p.  605.  Duval, 

i  — ^TToy  fMa  hTTotcmv  fjufmnf  n  tw  hro'jrouif.  cK  uU. 


NOTES.  31^ 

Poetry,  therefore,  had  more  distinctness,  entire- 
fiess,  and  projection  from  the  subject,  if  I  may  so 
express  myself,  than  those  of  Tragedy,  this,  as  it 
was  the  most  obvious,  became  in  time  almost  the 
only,  application  of  the  term  ;  till,  at  length,  from 
the  frequent  abuse  of  this  Epic  privilege  of  variety, 
and  the  /*» T«/3aXA«i^  top  axifovTa  ^,  scarce  any  other 
idea  was  annexed  to  the  word  Episode,  than  that 
of  digressiony  hors-d^a^uvre,  something  foreign  to 
tlie  subject,   or  connected  with  it  only  by  the 
slightest  thread.  Hence,  too,  in  modern  languatre, 
the  word,  I  think,  is  applied  only  to  entire  actions 
of  this  additional,  or  digressive  kind ;  not  to  the 
minuter  circumstances  or  incidents  which  form 
the  detail  of  an  action.  Thus,  we  call  tiie  whole 
story  of  Dido,  in  the  JEneid,  an  Episode ;  but  we 
should  not  give  that  name  to  any  of  the  incidents 
by  which  the  death  of  Turnus  (an  action  essential 
to  the  fable,)  is  circutnstantiated,  though  equally 
introduced  and  supplied  by  the  Poet,  and  there- 
fore equally,  in  Aristotle's  sense,  i-n-ua-ohx.    And 
so  much,  as  to  his  use  of  this  term,  in  general. 
M'hether  tJiese  remarks  are  well  or  ill  founded, 
will  best  appear,  when  we -come  to  apply  them  to 
the  particular  passages  in  which  the  word  occurs. 
In  that  now  before  us,  it  is  used,  I  think,  in  the 
second  of  the  two  senses  I  mentioned ;  and  its 
best   comment   seems   to   be  another    passage, 
cap.  xxiv.  \Transl.  Part  III.  Sect.  2.]  where  the 

critic 

^   Garf.  xxiv. 


> 

1 1 


310  NOTES. 

critic  observes  the  advantage  which  the  Epic  Poem 
has  in  the  varitty  of  its  Episo<les,  and  assigns  the 
want  of  that  variety,  as  one  common  cause  of  ill 
success  in  Tragic  writing  : — to  yot^  OMOION  nx-^M 

NOTE  38. 

P.  113.    The  ridiculous — a  species  of 

TURPITUDE  OR  DEFORMITY;  SINCE  IT  MAY 
BE    DEFINED,  &C. 

It  has  been  asserted  by  some  writers  of  emi- 
nence, that  Aristotle  here  speaks,  not  of  what  is 
laughable  or  ludicrous,  in  geneird,  but  only  of  the 
ridiculous,  in  that  particular  sense  of  the  word, 
in  which  it  is  distinguished  from  the  merely  risible, 
and  implies  laughta^  mixed  with  disapprobation 
or  .contempt^.  This,  however,  is  certainly  not 
what  Aristotle  has  said\  for  the  word  yiXoiov, 
which  he  uses,  is  as  general  as  possible,  and 
answers  exactly  to  our  word  laughable.  And  it 
is  in  this  general  sense,  justified,  I  think,  by  com- 
mon usage,  that  I  have  used  the  word  ridiculous 
in  my  version.  For  .though  in  a  philosophical 
speculation  the  distinction  above-mentioned  may 
be  necessary  for  clearness,  and  is  undoubtedly 
well  founded,  yet,  in  common  language,  tlie 
word  ridiculous  is  never  used  with  this  nice  appro- 
priation, 

Seattle,  On  Laughter  and  Ludicrous  composition — 
ch.  i.  p.  326.-"'l— Lord  Kaims,  El.  of  Criticism,  i.  ch.\'^ 


NOTES,  321 

priation,  but  applied,  like  its  Latin  original,  to 
whatever  excites  laughter. 

But  it  is  objected,  that,  if  Aristotle  means  the 
laughable  in  general,  his  account  of  the  matter 
is  false ;  because  "  men  laugh  at  that,  in  which 
**  tliere  is  neither  faitlt  nor  turpitude   of  any 
*'  kind\''    I  answ^er,  that  this  is  true  in  English, 
but  not  true  in  Greek     Our  word,  turpitude,  is 
confined,  I  think,  to  a  moral  sense,  and  I  suppose 
is  here  so  used  hy  Dr.  Beattie;  and  it  is  certainly 
true,  that  we  laugh  at  many  things  that  have  in 
them  no  turpitude  of  thai  kind — nothing;  morally 
wrong.     But  the  Greek  word,  AIXXPON,  was  a 
word  of  wide  extent,  and  seems  manifestly  used 
here  by  Aristotle  in  its  utmost  latitude;  compre- 
hending every  tliing  tiiat  is,  in  any  degree,  ugly 
or  defonned,  from  atrocious  villainy,  the  highest 
moral  ugliness,  to  a  ridiculous  cast  of  features  in 
an  ugly  face.     It  is  the  opposite  to   KAAONT, 
which  was  used  in  a  correspondent  latitude  of 
application.— The  objections,  which   have  be(n 
made  to  tliis  passage,  have  chiefly,  I  think,  beea 
owing  to  this,— that  the  objectors  have  not  been 
sufficiently  aware  of  the  extensive  siOTification  in 
which  the  Greeks  used  the  words,  xocXou,  aWyjoy, 

We  translate  the  words  of  antient  authors  by  words 
to  which  we  annex  diiierent  ideas,  and  then  raise 

objections 


VOL.  I, 


Dr.  Beatue,  ii?td.  p.  332. 
Y 


I 


-.  ( 


I' 

m 


IM* 
II  * 


314  NOTES. 

objections  and  difficulties  from  our  own  mistakes. 
The  consequence  of  taking  alcr^^oy  here  in  the 
restrained  sense  of  wor^/ turpitude,  has  been,  that 
those  writers,  who  have  so  taken  it,  have  been 
obliged  to  deny,  that  yiXotop  means  laughcibky 
because  the  laughable  in  general  could  not  truly 
be  defined,  *'  a  species  of  moral  turpitude." 

It  plainly  was  not  Aristotle's  design  here  to 
enter  into  an  accurate  inquiry  about  the  nature  of 
laughter,  and  the  distinction  of  risible  and  ridi- 
culous objects.  This  he  had  perhaps  done,  in  that 
part  of  this  mutilated  treatise,  which  related  to 
Comedy,  and  to  which  he  himself  refers  in  his 
Rhetoric*.  His  purpose,  here,  seems  to  have 
been,  merely  to  support  and  explain  his  account 
of  Comedy;  i.e.  that  it  was  /aijudo'k  f«vXorf^wy, 
*•  an  imitation  of  bad  characters ; "  that  is,  as  he 
immediately  limits  the  sense  of  the  general  term 
fAuAo>, — of  jndiculous,  or  laughable,  characters'*. 
Such,  he  continues,  are  properly  denominated 
fauAoi,  xaxoi,  bad,  &c.  because  the  laughable 
(ytXoiow)  is  one  species  of  the  a*V;^fo>,  taken  in 
its  most  general  sense.  "  But  to  what  species, 
or  class,"  it  was  obvious  to  ask,  *Moes  it  belong?** 
— To  that  class,  it  is  answered,  of  things  «»V;^f«, 

•  which 


Phet.  x.il.Ed.  DuvaL-^i^rfrai  nOS  A  El  AH  lEAOinN 
i?iy^  sv  Toi;  nrt^i  voivmJcr.i,    J  bid,  iii.  i8. 

•*  See  NOTE  19. — One  of  the  explanations  of  ^(W/^9• 
in  Htsjchius  is  xaray^^ir^. 


NOTES.  323 

which  are  neither  destructive  nor  painful:  for 
these,  exciting  terror  or  pity,  are  the  property  of 
Tragedy  \     And  he  asserts,  I  think,  plainly,  that 
the  laughabk  in  general,   to  yiXoiov,  /.« e.  evert/ 
thing  that  excites  laughter,  is  iixx^mfAo,  TI  xxi 
aKr^©>  ivu3$\jyo¥  xa<  i  (pia^riKcv — isj  in  some  re- 
spect or   other,  Jau/tj/,  wrong,  deformed,    but 
neither  painful  nor  pernicious.     What  follows, 
about  a  ridiculous  face,  is,  I  think,  clearly,  not  an 
illustration  merely,  as  Dr.  Campbell  understands 
it  to  be  \  but  an  instance.     This  seems  evident 
from   Aristotle's   using   the  very  word  oil<rx^o9 ; 
{n^aruTTOif  ocl(rxso^)  which  he  would  hardly  have 
done,  had  he  just  before  used  the  words  ccla-x^on 
and  al(rx(^,  as  Dr.  Campbell  and  Dr.  Beattie 
contend  that  he  has  used  them,  in  a  inoral  sense 
only. 

But  it  is  objected—"  We  can  never  suppose 
"  that  Aristotle   would   have    called    distorted 
''  features  "  a  certain  fault  or  slip*:'    To  call 
them  a  slip^,  would  indeed  sound  strangely ;  be- 
cause that  expression  conveys  the  idea  of  some- 
thing morally  wrong.     But  when  we  say,  that  a 
very  long  nose,  or  a  wide  mouth,  is  a  fault  in  a 
face,  we  use  a  veiy  common  expression ;  the  word 
fault  having,  I  think,  the  same  latitude  of  appli- 
cation  as  the  Greek  word  dfAoc^rnixcc, 
____  It 

•  See  cap.  xii.  /w/V/^.— Transl.  Pan  II.  Endo{ Sect.  9. 
^  Philos.  of  Rhetoric,  book  u  ch.  iii.  Sect.  1. 
«  Ibid. 

Y  3 


tl 


I 


I  , 


m  NOTES. 

It  must  be  observed,  however,  that  all  Aristotle 
says  is,  that  these  two  characters,  deformity  of  some 
sort,  and  the  absence  of  pain,  or  hurt,  are  to  be 
found  in  every  object  of  laughter :   he   neither 
says,  nor  implies,  the  converse— ihdX  every  thing 
so  qualified  is  laughable  \     With  respect  to  one 
of  these   characters  ~  the   absence  of  pain   or 
harm—there  can  be  no  doubt    It  is  only  sayin^ 
that  we  cannot  laugh  at  that  which  shocks  us.  As 
to  the  other  general  character,  deformity,  ugliness, 
something  wrong,  &c.  (a>«^T»j^a  TI  x**  aiV^O*) 
it  seems  to  me,  that  these  expressions,  taken  in 
that  large  sense,  in  which  Aristotle  plainly  means 
to  use  them,  amount  to  much  the  same  as  those 
used  by  modern  philosopiiers  to  characterize  the 
risible  in  general ;  such  as,  '*  incongruity,  incon- 
"  gruous  association,  striking umuitableness\''"-^ 
''  disproportion,  inconsistence  and  dissonance  of 
"  circumstaiices  in  the  some  %*ec^^"— "  With 
"  respect  to  works  both  of  nature,  and  of  art," 
says  the  ingenious  and  philosophical  author  of  the 

Elements 

*  "  Though  every  incongruous  combination  is  not 
**  ludicrous,  ^veryhidicrous  combination  is  Incongruous." 
Dr.  Beattic,  On  Laughter,  &c.  ch.ii.  p.  351. 

'  Fhil.  of  Rhet.  book  i.  p.  89,  93. 

*  Bcattie,  On  Laughter,  from  Dr.  Gerrard.  So 
AJ^eoside — 

sonu  incongruous  form, 

Some  stukborn  dissonance  of  things  combined. 

PL  0/  Im,h.  iii.  v.  250. 


NOTES.  325 

Elements  of  Criticism,  "  tione  of  them  are  risible 
"  but  what  are  out  of  rule,  some  remarkable 
"  defect  or  excess;    a  very  long  visage,  for 
•   *'  example,  or  a  very  short  one.   Hence,  nothing 
"  just,  proper,  decent,  beautiful,  proportioned,  or 
''  grand,  is  risible  ^^    This  appears  to  me  to  be 
exactly  the  meaning,  and  to  approach  very  near 
to  the  language,  of  Aristotle.     For,  of  whatever 
may  be  thus  characterized  it  surely  may  be  said, 
that  it  has  some  species  ot  fault,  deformity,  or 
distortion :  in  Aristotle's  words,  dfMcc^rriix»  T»  x«i 
^X^ — «iV;^ov  TI  xai  AIEXTPAMMENON. 

Aristotle's  account,  then,  of  the  ytXom,  appears 
to  be  right,  as  far  as  it  goes.  It  might,  indeed,  be 
objected  to,  as  too  general,  had  he  given  it  as  the 
result  of  an  exact  and  particular  analysis  of  the 
subject  But  this,  as  I  have  already  observed,  was 
not  his  purpose  in  this  place. 

It  is  farther  objected  by  Dr.  Campbell,  that  to 
speak  of  laughter  in  getieral,  *'  would  have 
•'  been  foreign  to  Aristotle's  purpose : "  because, 
"  laughter  is  not  his  theme,  but  Cotnedy ;  and 
"  laughter  only  so  far  as  Comedy  is  concerned 
**  with  it  Now  tl>e  concern  of  Corned  v  reaches 
"  no  farther  than  that  kind  of  ridicule  which 
''  relates  to  manners  ".'*— Undoubtedly  it  was 
this 

'  Lord  Kaims,  EJ.  of  Crit.  voLu  ch,s\u  Yet  he, 
too,  objects  to  Arisiotic's  detinition,  as  **  obscure  and 
imperfect." — Ch.  xii. 

■  PhiL  rf  Rhet,  b,  i,  ch.  iii.  sect.  I. 

Y3 


i 


326  NOTES. 

this  kind  of  ridicule  that  Aristotle  had  principally 
in  view.  But  I  apprehend,  that  the  Comedy  here 
in  question  was  concerned  with  the  ridiculous  or 
laughable  in  general.     For  Aristotle's  notion  of 
Comedy,  as  an  excellent  writer  has  observed, 
"'  was  taken  fi-om  the  state  and  practice  of  the 
"  Athenian  stage ;  that  is,  from  the  old  or  middle 
"  Comedy,  which  answers  to  his  description.  The 
*'  great  revolution  which  the  introduction  of  the 
"  new  Comedy  made  in  the  drama,  did  not  hap- 
*'  pen  till  afterwards"."  Now  tlie  old  and  middle 
Comedy,  as  I  have  before  observed",  were  no  other 
tlian  what  a^'^  should  call  Farce.  To  raise  a  laugh 
was  so  eminently  their  object,  that  the  ridiculous 
(to  yiXciov)  is  frequently  used  by  Plato,  as  syno. 
nymous  to  Comedy,  and  subsfituted  for  it ;  as  pity 
is  also   for  Tragedy^.     Nor  was  it  even  very 
''  foreign  to  Aristotle's  purpose''  to  instance  in  a 
ridiculous  face ;    for  that  this  also  was  an  esta- 
blished source  oifun  in  the  Greek  theatre,  is  well 
known  from  the  ^curious  account  of  the  comic 

masks 


"  Disc  ort  the  Provinces  of  the  Drama,  p.  201. 

•    KOTE   i%, 

'  *A^*  kx  0  outT(^  xo7(^  KOI  TTi^i  TOT  TEAOIOr ; 

meaning  ameay:  and  presently  after,  to^tov  ;roi«f  osrcj)  it 
roil  EAEOI2.  i.e.  in  Tragedy.  De.  Rep.  llh.x.  p.  606. 
id.  Scrr.-^Scc  also  Dc  Leg.  p.  816.  where,  in  perfect 
agre.ir.ent  with  Aristotle,  he  uses  this  expression: 
lea  /.:;  «>  UEFi  FEAXITA  in  7f»yvia,  a  fe  KiiMQiAIAN 


NOTES.  327 

masks  in  Jul.  Pollux  ;  who  says,  particularly  of 
those  of  the  old  Comedy,  that  they  were  ridiculous 
caricaturas  of  the  persons  represented: — Wi  to 
ytXoiOTifoy  i(r;^»j^«Tiro'.  The  Atlienians  were  cer- 
tainly not  more  delicate  than  Cicero,  who  thought, 
we  know,  that  bodily  deformities  were  *'  satis 
bella  materies  ad  jocandum'/'  He,  also,  agrees 
perfectly  with  Aristotle,  or  rather  follows  him,  in 
his  account  of  the  ridiculous  :  "  Locus  autem  et 
**  regio  quasi  ridiculi  turpitudine  et  defor- 

**    MITATE  QUADAM  COntiiittur*." 

NOTE  39. 

p.  114.    Its  Poets  have  been  recorded. 

The  original  is,  o*  AErOMENOI  auVu?  l^o^r^T^^ 
/livfi/Ao VI vovrat :  the  only  fair  translation  of  which, 
I  think,  is,  *'  they  who  are  called  its  Poets."  But 
as  it  seems  not  easy  to  find  any  reasonable  mean- 
ing for  this,  I  have  not  translated  the  word  at 
all.  The  text  is  probably  corrupt.  CasteKetro 
conjectured,  very  ingeniously,' 'OAiroi  MEN  *Ol 

*ATTH£  iroiurai. — But  this  Greek,  oAi-yoi  ot  iroiDTa*, 

u,  I  fear,  what  the  critics  call,  iroyu^a  xoim[xat(^. 

I  uiU 


9  Lth,  iv.  cap.xix.  Aud  see  Lucian,  De  Salt.  p.  925. 
ed  Bitted,  He  says,  that  the  ridiculousness  of  the  comic 
masks  was  regarded  as  a  part  of  ilie  cntertaiaracnt ; 

'  De  Or,  lib.  ii.  cap.  59. 

T4 


m 


3t8  NOT    E    S. 

I  will  venture  to  mention  another  conjecture  that 
has  occurred  to  me.  ^  he  learned  reader  will  di*. 
pose  or  it  as  he  pleases.  It  seems  not  improbable 
that  Aristotle  wrote,  Wn  h  <rxfifj^r<x  r*.*  ai^ng 
•X«^i?  *OIA  AErOMEN,  'oi  ^Crng,  &,c.  i.e.  *' When 
it  had  acquired  a  ctritain  form,  such  as  we  say,'' 
alluding  to  what  he  had  said  of  Homer's  suggest- 
ing, by  hi4  Margites,  the  true  form,  or  idea,  of 
Comedy,  in  which  tiie  ridiculous  was  substituted 
for  the  mere  invtciive  of  the  old  Iambic,  or  Satyric 
f(yr?n\  Ta.  n,f  xwju^cTia^j  IXflMATA  ^^«t®*  J^i- 
*«£«,»  4/#yoir,  <iKKt^  TO  FEaOION  ^^a/^«TOTOiii<r«f, 

[c^p.  iv.]  See,  also,  what  he  says  immediately 
after,  of  the  forms  (rxftf^xra)  of  Tragedy  and 
Conjedy  being  hnfA^n^a,  in  higher  cndit  and 
esteem,  tiian  tliose  of  the  old  mirical  and  tnco- 
7niasiic  ^mm  which  preceded  them  :  for  this 
seems  to  accord  with  what  he  here  says,  that 
Comedy  was,  neglected  till  it  attauied  something 
of  this  its  proper  form,  and  aimed  at  its  proper 
object,  the  ridiculous.  The  reader  will  see  the 
connection :  'h  h  xv/i^uHTia,  hx  t«  \fH  ZnOTAA- 

2EieAI  il  i^^iii^  iAaSii.. HAll  A£  2XHMATA 

Tim  aJrnf  i^Hcr^;  'OIA  AErOMEN,  'oI  aurnf  ^oiurai 

•  /*i/>i/xoi.iuoyT«».— This  differs  tr(;m  the  present  read- 
ing only  by  the  inseition  of  a  single  letter,  A, 
which  mij^ht  easily  have  been  omitted,  from  its 
resemblance  to  the  A  tliat  follows. 


*  —  T»f  kt^ixni  Ihai. 


NOTES. 


329 


NOTE  40. 

P.  114.     Prologues. 

We  are  not,  I  think,  to  look  for  a  sense  of 
the  word  11^ oXoy^,.  as  here  applied  to  Comedy, 
different  from  that,  in  which  it  is  applied,  cA.xii. 
[TransL  Part  II.  Sect,  \  0.]  to  Tragedy,  In  both, 
it  was  that  introductory  part  of  the  drama,,  the 
business  of  which  was,  to  give  the  spectator,  either 
directly,  in  its  very  outset,  or,  more  obliquely,  in 
the  course  of  it,  so  much  information  relative  to 
the  subject  of  tlie  piece,  as  would  enable  him  to  ^ 
follow  the  action  without  confusion  *.  This  we 
learn  clearly  from  the  following  passage  in  that 
part  of  Aristotle's  Rhetoric,  where  he  explains  and 
illustrates  the  oratorical  exordium,  by  a  compari- 
son of  it  with  that  of  the  Epic  Poem,  and  with  the 
prologue^  of  a  drama.  After  giving,  as  examples, 
the  openings  of  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey,  he  goes  on, 

iStrin^  Eu^»7ri<r»ic,    aAA*  iv  TXI4  ftPOAOrXl*  yc  IIOT 

^uAei,  tiffwi^  xa*  lo^oxXn;' KAI  *H  KXlMXliAIA 

*X22ATTX12  '■'. — This  clearly  excludes  the  separate 

prologue, 

'  This  purpose  is  well  expressed  in  the  R/iet.  lib,  iii. 
cap,  14. — 6  hi  axjTTt^  ili  Tijy  ;^a  rm  a^XPf^,  'ttoiei  ixoiisvov 

^  Rhet,  iii.  14.      The  instance  there   given  from 
Sophocles,  *E^i  srflrnjf  w  XIoAv/S^,  seems  an  interpolation ; 

for 


11 


330  NOTES. 

prologue,  such  as  that  of  the  Roman  Comedy  ; 
and  it  is,  also,  irreconcilable  with  Dacier's  idea 
that  by  the  prologue,  in  the  passage  we  are  con- 
sidering, Aristotle  meant  what  was  afterwards 
called  the  Parabasis ;  for  this  was  merely  an  ad- 
dress from  the  Poet  to  the  audience,  through  the 
mouth  of  the  Chorus,  occurring  indifferently  in 
any  part  of  the  play,  and  even,  sometimes,  at  the 
€ndo{  it^  It  seems  to  differ  from  the  prologue 
of  the  Reman  Comedy,  and  of  the  modern  drama, 
only  in  its  being  delivered  by  the  Chorus,  and  io 
the  body  of  the  piece  ^ 

Tragedy,  according  to  the  usual  account  of  it, 
seems  to  have  consisted,  at;?r^/,  only  of  two  parts, 
the  Xofixov,  and  EicH(To$ioi,\  and  to  have  begun  and 
ended  with  those  choral  songs,  which  were  then 

esteemed 


for  those  words  are  not  in  any  part  of  the  tt^o^^  of  ihc 
Oeilipm  Tyr.  even  according  to  Aristotle's  own  definition 
of  the  word,  cap.  \ii.-^The  sense  too  seems  better  with- 
'  out  it ;  for  he  means,  I  think,  to  say,  that  it  was  the 
general  practice  of  Sophocles  to  convey  this  information 
more  indirectly,  and  somewhere  in  the  Prologue,  as  it  was 
the  general  practice  of  Euripides  to  do  this  professedly, 
and  in  the  very  opening. 


# 


*  As  in  the  EuxMht.  of  Aristophanes,  which  closes  with 
the  Ucc^aBoJii, — Sec  Suidas,  v.  vra^aQ.  and  Jvl.  Pollux. 

^  See  the  Parabasis  of  the  Nubes,  v.  518,  which,  its 
indecency  excepted,  is  much  of  the  same  cast  with  the 
Proloc;ues  of  Terence, 

!  Cap. xii.  TramL  Partll,  Sect,  10. 


NOTES.  3ji 

esteeined  the  essential  part  of  Tragedy.  But, 
afterwards,  these  scanty  fables,  /luxjoi  /;au9oi,  as 
Aristotle  calls  them,  were  drawn  out  to  their  pro- 
per size^,  not  only  by  introducing  a  greater 
variety  of  episodic  incidents',  but  by  prefixing  to 
XXieJirst  choral  song,  (or  to  the  first  speech  of  the 
entire  chorus,  according  to  Aristotle's  account  of 
the  Parode,  cap.  xii.)  the  introductory  part  called 
n^oXoy®*,  and  adding,  after  the  lasty  the  conclud- 
ing part  called  EgoiTof.  The  case  was  probably 
the  same  with  Comedy.  The  Phallic  songs,  from 
which  it  received  its  birtli\  were,  I  suppose, 
regarded  originally  as  the  essential  part  of  the 
Cojnic  drama,  in  the  same  manner  as  the  Bacchic 
hymns  were  of  the  Tragic.  Aristotle  plainly 
speaks  of  Comedy,  as  having  gradually  received 
similar  additions  and  improvements  to  those  of 
Tragedy';  and,  among  these,  that  of  the  n^oXoy©*. 
That  such  an  introductory  part,  or  act,  which 
should  be,  as  Aristotle  expresses  it,  ^HyfAo,  Koys, 
and  o7o7ro*Tio-if  Tw  iTTioj/Tt  ^,  was  indeed  still  more 
necessary  to  Comedy  than  to  Tragedy,  is  obvious 
from  the  very  nature  of  the  former  drama'. 

The 


^  Cap.'iv.  e  See  note  37.  »»  Cap.W. 

TT^oacaTTa — TT^'Koyjii;  — tsy^r^  hiroK^iruv. — Masks  were 
used  in  1  ragedy   also,      c^schylus  was,   "  persom 
repertor  honestae,''  according  to  Horace. 
^  Rhet.  ubi  supra. 

\  See  NOTE  59^  and  the  passage  from  Adienacus. 


V 


33*  NOTES. 

The  nature  and  office  of  the  Greek  prologue, 
and  its  two  different  w^//;?er^,  are,  I  observe,  very 
exactly  expressed  by  Terence  in  the  conclusioa 
of  his  separate  prologue  to  the  Addphi ;  as  they 
are  also  very  well  exemplified  in  the  two  first 
scenes. 

Dehinc,  ne  expectetis  argumenta  fabulr». 
Senes  qui  primi  venieiU,  hi,  partem  apeiient. 
In  agendo  partem  ostendent.  -  -  - 

That  is^  as  I  understand  it,  part  of  the  plot  tl\ey 
will  open  to  you  in  the  way  of  direct  narration, 
like  the  prologues  of  Euripides,  (as,  in  the  soli- 
loquy of  Mitio,)  and  part  they  will  discover  in  a 
more  oblique  and  dramatic  way,  in  the  scene  of 
action  and  dialoorue  that  follows:  *♦  In  agendo 
partem  ostendent'^ 

I  ventured,  in  a  former  note*,  to  say,  that  the 
Greek  Tragedy  appeared  to  me  to  have  retained, 
with  all  its   improvements,   some   traces   of  its 
origin.     Something  of  this  may  be  perceived,  I 
think,  in  the  very  opening  of  many  of  the  Greek 
dramas  :  but  especially  in  those   of  Euripides, 
whose  inartificial  prologues  of  explanatory  nar- 
ration, addressed  directly  to  the  spectators,  remind 
us  of  the  state  of  tragedy  previous  to  the  intro- 
duction of  the  dialogue ;  when  it  consisted  only 
of  a  story  told  between  the  acts,  (if  I  may  so 
speak,)  of  the  Dithyrambic  Chorus,  which  was 
*  then 


♦  N0T£  3j,  p.  308. 


NOTES.  333 

tiien  the  main  body  and  substance  of  the  enter- 
tainment When  I  read  the  opening  of  the 
Hecuba : 

HKXl,  vix^uv  KBv9jjt,uvx  Koti  (ncom  TrvXocg 

AiTTuv,  iv  Aoffg  %&jp;c  icyct^ou  6euv, 

nOAT AXIPOZ,  EKocfirjg  Truig  yeyug  Tfjg  Ki(r(recog 

•—that  of  the  PerscB  of  iEschylus: —  . 
EXAod   Big  ulxv  'TTi^x  ycaXuTOCi.   -   -   - 


—or,  even  th( 
AYTOS  dy  lxn\v9cc 

o  nAri  KAEiNOs  oiAinoYi:  kaaot- 

MENOS    -  -  - 
—of  Sophocles",  I  cannot  help  thinking  of  the 
single   actor    of  Thespis,    announcing   his  own 
name  and  family,  and  telling  the  simple  tale  of 
his  achievement*  or  misfortunes. 

This  sort  of  direct  explanation  was  afterwards, 
with  much  more  propriety,  taken  from  the  persons 
of  the  drama,  and  consigned  to  tlie  actors  in  a 

detached 


■  Ahiiost  all  the  Tragedies  of  Euripides  open  in 
the  same  manner.  See,  in  particular,  Jj)/^ig,  in  Taur. 
Bacchm^  and  Phtenissa, 

•  Oed^  Tyr.  v.  8. — Of  all  the  openings  of  this  Poet, 
that  of  the  Trachinia  resembles  most  the  manjaer  of 
Euripides. 


334  NOTES. 

detached  prologue,  such  as  those  of  Phmius  and 
Terence:  a  practice,  which,  if  we  did  not  know 
the  attachment  of  Ben  Jonson  to  every  thin^ 
antient,  we  might  suspect  he  meant  to  ridicule, 
by  the  pleasant  use  he  has  made  of  it  hi  the 
prologue  to  his  puppet-shew  oi  Hero  and Leander, 
in  the  Bartholomew  Fair. 

"  Gentles,  that  no  longer  your  expectations  may  wander, 
**  B«hold  our  chief  actor,  amorous  Lean  Jfr, 
**  With  a  great  deal  of  cloth  lapp'd  about  him  like  a  scarf, 
"  For  he  yet  serves  his  father,  a  dyer  at  Puddle-wharf,"  &c. 

The  next,  and  the  last  step,  in  the  history  of 
Prologues,  was  again  to  leave  the   argument,  as 
it  had  been  left  by  Sophocles,  to  the  oblique  in- 
formation and  gradual  development  of  the  action 
itself,  and  to  make  the  separate  prologue  subser- 
vient to  other  purposes,  unconnected  with  the 
subject  of  the  drama.— The  worst  bf  these  pur- 
poses, and   the  greatest  possible  abuse  of  the 
term,  is  to  be  found  in  what  is  called  the  Pro- 
logue  of  the  French  Opera ;    ivhich  is  wholly 
composed  of  two  ingredients,  almost  equally  dis- 
y^  gusting  to    a  just  poetical,   or  moral  taste  —- 
allegory  and  adulation*. 


NOTES. 


I3i 


•  See   Rousseau's  account  of  it,  Diet,  de  Adusique, 
mrt.  Prologue. 


NOTE    41. 

P.  114.    Epicharmus  and  Phormis  first 

INVENTED    COMIC    FABCES.     -     -     . 

Dacier,  here,  raises  unnecessary  difficulties. 
His  positive  assertion,  that,  in  the  old  and 
middle  Comedy,  «  II  n'y  avoit  rien  de  feint,'' 
[Notes  10  and  13]  is  surprising.  The  slightest  in- 
spection of  Aristophanes  will  confute  it.  Was  it, 
then,  a  fact,  that  Socrates  used  to  be  suspended 
in  a  basket  for  the  benefit  of  aerial  meditation  .> 
and  that  JSschylus  and  Euripides  weighed  their 
verses  in  a  pair  of  scales,  to  decide,  by  that 
means,  a  contest  for  superiority,  after  they  were 
dead*?  &c.  Farther,  it  seems  not  easy  to  recon- 
cile this  assertion  of  Dacier's,  to  wliat  he  after- 
wards says,  ch.  ix.  mte  8. 

MvJ«f  ir^ittv,  is  clearly  to  invent  plots  or  sub- 
jects;  and  whatever  is  invented,  or  feigned,  is,  in 
Aristotle  s  language,  x«eoAK,  or  general,  as  opposed 
to  a  stricUy  historical  plot,  which  is  x«9  Uxfop, 
particular.  See  ch.ix.'  which  is  the  best  com-' 
nient  on  tliis  passage;  especially  what  is  there 
said  of  Co?nedi/.  The  expression,  therefore, 
which  Aristotle  presently  after  uses,  in  speaking 

of     Crates,    a>i^f^^    mg    i'a/uj3ixuf    Utag,    xaJoAk 

womi,  Aoyaf  li  ^uAhj,  I  understand  to  be  no  more 

^ than 

-^ — ■ —  ■  

•  AWx,  Ja  1.  Sc,  m.-^Ran^,  Aa  V.  6V.  ill. 

*  Traml.  ?m  U.  Sfct.  6. 


II 


33^  NOTES. 

than  the  development  of  tlie  shorter  expression 
which  preceded,  ^u9»f  reii»„.  Ife  does  not  say, 
that  Crates  was  the  first  Poet,  but  only  the  first 
Athenian  Poet,  who  invented  such  comic  sub- 
jects. The  distinction  seems  clearly  marked  :  to 
/Afir  iy  il  d^^n;  IX  IIKEAIAX  Mt:  TXIN  AE 
A8HNH»£I,  K^arnf  wftnf^ — x.  t.  «XA. 

NOTE    42. 

P.  114.     Epic    Poetry   agrees    so    far 
WITH  Tragic,  &c. 

.  Of  the  corruption  of  this  passage  I  have  no 
doubt.    It  has  been  proposed  to  eject  the  words, 
lAtra,  \9yjs.    My  suspicion  rather  falls  upon  the 
word  fAir^a;    which,  as  it  adds  nothing  but  em- 
barrassment to  the   sense,    (Xoy^,   speech,   or 
words,  being  a  general  term,  and  including  rnetre, 
as  in  ch.  i\)  I  have  omitted.    It  appears  to  me, 
likew  ise,  that  the  only  meaning,  which  can  reason- 
ably be  given  to  the  expression,  fAtxgi  MONor 
fAiTf 8,  is—"  as  for  as  metre  alone ;   i.  e.  without 
"  considering  the  other  means  of  imitation,  mi/odj/ 
*'  and  rhythmr    And,  accordingly,  some  com- 
mentators, by  /t*iTfov  'AnAOTN,  understand  verse 
done,  without  musk.    But  had  this  been  Aristotle's 
meaning,   he  would  probably  have  used  the  ap- 
propriated and  clear  word,  i^*aoi.  ^    The  proper 
and  obvious  sense  of  /^fTf oy  aVA«k,  is,  a  simple,  or 


»  See  NOTE  jj.  p.  234,  6cc. 


*»  Ibid. 


NOTES.  337 

single,  kind  of  metre'.  This  sense  seems  also 
supported  by  what  he  says  of  the  metrical  dif- 
ference of  the  Epic  and  Tragic  Poems,  cap,  xxiv. 
where  melody  and  rhythm  are  not  taken  info  the 
comparison,  but  tlie  different  kinds  of  metre 
only,  and  their  being  one,  or  many: — 1\  yoc^  t*? 

ly  aW'ji   Tin  /A«T^u    $iViyifiii,OLTiyL'ny  lAiixn^iy   ttoioito,   rt 

iv  nOAAOIS,  uTTftTTii  ay  (pxiyoiTo.  And  farther, 
that  Aristotle  did  not  mean  to  express  by  ixBr^oy 
inXayy  the  exclusion  of  melody  and  rhythm, 
appears  thq  more  probable,  because  he  suffi- 
ciently expresses  this  presently  afterwards,  when 
he  says,  that  some  of  the  parts  of  Tragedy  were 
peculiar  to  it.  Now  these  parts,  are  no  other 
than  the  decoration,  (ovJ/k,)  and  the  Melopa^ia, 
which  included  melody  and  rhythm. 

On  the  whole,  it  seems  not  improbable,  that  the 
passage  originally  stood  in  some  such  way  as  this: 
•H  ^ly  iy  ETTOTToiix  Tn   T^ocy^^^a,  fJit^Pi  ^gvh   TOT 

NOTE    43. 

P.  115.     This,    at   first,    w^as    equally 

TH?    CASE    WITH    TraGEDY    ITSELF. 

It  seems  to  have   been    taken   for  granted, 

without  any  foundation,  by  Dacier,  and   other 

commentators , 

«  ATTT^n-^MONOElAHl  —  Suicfas,  'A^rAsv— AITN- 
©ETON.  Hes.  So,  uttp^v  is  opposed  by  Aristotle  to 
TTETrxgyfAsvov,  caf.x.  et  passim:  aiid  to  ^iTrymt  cap,xm. 
ti  xxi.     » 

VOL.  I.  z 


338  NOTES. 

commentators,   tliat  the  modern    rule,    (for  an 
antient  rule  it^certainly  is  not,)  of  what  is  called 
the  unity  of  time,  was  strictly  adhered  to  in  every 
period  of  the  Greek  drama:    and  this  has  led 
them,  in  this  passage,  to  confound  the  length  of 
the  action,  or  fable,  with  that  of  the  represen- 
tation ;  for  these,  where  a  strict  unity  of  time  is 
observed,  are  indeed  the  same.     But  Aristotle 
here  says  plainly,  that  in  the   earliest  state  of 
Tragedy,  no  rule  at  all,  with  respect  to  the  time 
of  the  action,  was  observed ;    that  it  was  not 
only  allowed  to  exceed  "  a  single  revolution  of 
"  the  sun;',\.xxt  was  «  indefinite"  U'of.f®-)  like 
that  of  the  Epic  Poem.    This  evidently  cannot 
be  applied,  without  absurdity,  to  the  time  of  re- 
presentation.   Yet  so  it  is  applied  by  Dacier  in 
his  note  on  this  passage,  p.  70. 

But  it  appears  farther,  I  think,  from  what  is 
said,  and  plainly  said,  in  this  chapter,  that,  after 
all  we  have  heard  so  often  about  this  famous . 
unity  of  time,  the  rule  receives   not  the   least 
support  from  Aristotle's  authority.    Every  one, 
who  knows  how  much  stress  has  been  laid   by 
modem  critics  on  the  three  dramatic  unities,  and 
happens  not  to  be  well  acquainted  with  Aristotle's 
treatise  on  Poetry,  would,  I  suppose,  naturally 
take  it  for  granted,  that  they  are  all  explicitly  laid 
down,  and  enforced  by  him,  as  essential  and  in- 
dispensable laws,  in  that  famous  code  of  dramatic 
criticism.     But  the  fact  is,  that,  of  these  three 

rules, 


NOTES.  ^^^ 

rules,  the  only  one  that  can  be  called  important 

that  of  1the  unity  of  action— h,  indeed,  clearly 
laid  down  and  explained,  and,  with  great  reason, 
considered    by  him   as  indispensable.     Of  the 
two    other   unities,    that  of  place  is  not  once 
mentioned,  or  even  hinted,  in  the  whole  book ; 
and  all  that  is  said,  respecting  the  time  of  the 
action,    is    said  in   this  chapter,   and   in   these 
words :    ''  Tragedy  cndtaxours,  as  Jar  as  pos- 
*'  sible,  to  confine  its  action  within  the  limits  of 
*'  a   single  revolution   of  the  sun,    or  nearly 
"  w*."     Almost   all    the   commentators    seem 
agreed   in    understanding    the    expression,    ^*« 
ir£fioJ(^    f?Ai«,    to  mean    only  an  artificial  day. 
But  I  own  I  could  never  yet  perceive  any  good 
reason,  why  we  should  not  permit  Aristotle  to 
viean  what  he  seems,   in  plain   terms,   \o  say. 
If  he   meant   only  twehe  hours,    why  did   he 
prefer  an  expression  so  ambiguous,  to  say  the 
least  of  it,  as  ^lav  iri^iohy  r>i»,  to  the  clear  and 
obvious  expression  of  ^Lxay  *HMEPAN  ? — But,  to 
wave  this  question,  the  utmost,  which  the  most 
strenuous  advocates  for  the  unity  of  time  can 
make  of  this   passage,  is   this— that  the  Poet 
should  endeavour,  as  far  as  possible,  to  confine 
the  supposed  time  of  the  action  to  that  of  a 
single  day,  or  nearly  so.    Now  it  seems  allowed, 

that 


AAi*fov  eia>^T7uv.  Cap,  v. 

Z  2 


340  NOTES. 

that  none  of  the  Greek  Tragedies  extant  could 
have  taken  up,  in  the  representation,  more  than 
three  or  four  hours.  What  Aristotle,  therefore, 
here  says,  is  so  far  from  being  a  rule  for  the 
unity  of  time,  that,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  saying 
as  plainly  as  possible,  that,  in  his  view,  it  was  no 
duty  incumbent  on  the  dramatic  Poet  even  to 
aim  at  the  observance  of  such  a  rule  :  for,  had 
he  thought  otherwise,  his  mode  of  expression 
would,  surely,  have  been  very  different.  lie 
would  have  proposed  the  strict  unity  of  time— 
the  exact  coincidence  of  the  actual  time  of  re- 
presmtation  with  the  supposed  time  of  the 
action — as  the  point  of  perfection,  at  which  the 
Poet  was  to  aim:  he  would  have  said,  ''  Tragedy 
"  endeavours,  as  far  as  possible,  to  confine  its 
*'  action  within  the  time  of  representation^  or 
*'  nearly  so." 

It  is  certain,  indeed,  that  the  nature  of  the 
drama,  strictly  and  rigorouslj/  considered,  would 
require,  I  will  not  say,  to  the  perfection,  but  to 
the  closeness,  of  its  imitation,  the  exact  coinci- 
dence here  mentioned  ;  and  it  is  on  this  founda-  ^ 
tion  only,  that  any  rule  at  all  relative  to  time 
could  be  necessary,  and  that  the  dramatic  Poet 
could,  with  any  reason,  be  denied  the  privilege 
of  the  Epic.  All  I  contend  for  is,  that  Aristotle 
has  no  wlirrc  required  such  a  coincidence;  that 
he  has  not  even  mentioned  it ;  much  less  has  he, 
either  here,  or  in  any  other  part  of  his  work, 
5  enjoined 


NOTES.  341 

enjoined  it  as  a  rule.  His  rule  is,  as  generally 
understood,  "confine  your  action,  as  nearly  as 
''  you  can,  to  a  single  day ;"— or,  as  I  think,  in 
conformity  to  his  plam  words,  it  skoidd  be  under- 
stood—'* to  a  single  revolution  of  the  sun,  or 
"twenty-four  hours  ^" 

It  may,  perhaps,  be  objected,  that  Aristotle 
has  not  delivered  this  in  the  form  of  a  rule;  that 
he  only  refers  to  fact,  and  to  the  usnal  practice 
of  the  dramatic  Poets  of  his  time.  *'  Tragedy 
endeavours,"  &c.  But,  surely,  to  mention  the 
general  practice  of  Poets  with  seeming  appro- 
bation, or,  at  least,  without  a  word  to  the  con- 
trary,  is,  in  fact,  to  erect  that  practice,  (as  he 
has  done  on  many  other  occasions  throughout  his 
treatise,)  into  a  rule.— It  is  sufficient  for  my 
purpose,  that,  at  least,  he  has  given  no  other 
rule. 

Moreover, 


*  It  is  diverting  to  hear  Castelvetro  gravely  setting 
forth  the  inconveniences  of  being  shut  up  for  four  and 
twenty  hours  in  a  theatre : — '*  II  tempo  stretto  e  quello, 
'*  che  i  vcditori  possono  a  suo  agio  dimorarc  fedendo  in 
"  theairo ;  il  quale  io  non  veggo  che  possa  passarc  il 
*'  giro  del  sole,  si  come  dice  Aristotele.  cio  e,  hore 
"  dodici :  conciosia  cesa  che  per  le  ncccssita  del  corpo, 
•*  come  e,  mangiare,  here,  dipcrre  i  supcrfui  pest  del 
**  ventre  e  delta  vesica,  dormlre,  e  per  altre  necessita, 
"  non  possa  il  popolo  continuare  oltre  il  predetto  ter- 
"  mino  cosi  fatta  dimora  in  theauo."— />.  109. 


34*  NOTES. 

Moreover,  what  he  here  says  of  the  practice 
of  the  Greek  dramatists,  seems  somewhat  adverse 
,  to  the  laiiguage  of  those  modern  critics,  who  so 
often  appeal,  if  I  mistake  not,  to  that  veiy  prac- 
tice, for  the  support  of  their  rigorous  unity  of  time. 
Tor,  if  his  expression  does  not  prove,  that  he 
thought  the  rule  of  a  single  revolution  of  the  sun 
the  only  rule  which  the  Poets  ought  to  observe, 
it  surely  proves,  because  it  actuajly  says,  that  he 
thought  it  the  only  rule,  which,  in  general,  they 
did  observe.     But  what  says  Dacier  ?    "  Une 
"  Tragedie,  pour  6tre  parfaite,  ne  doit  occuper 
"  ni  plus,  ni  moins  de  terns,  pour  Taction,  que 
"  pour  la  representation ;  car  elle  est  alors  dans 
"  toute  la  vraisemblance.     Les  Tragiques  Grecs 
"  I'oNT  ToujouRs  PRATiQu£"  What  he  adds, 
it  seems  not  very  easy  to  comprehend  :  "  Et  ils 
*'  sen  sont  fait  une  loi  si  indispensable,  que  pour 
"  ne  la  pas  violer,  ils  ont  quelquefois  violeuth  leurs 
"  tncidens,  d'une  maniere  que  je  ne  conseillerois 
"  pas  de  suivre : "  i.  e.  in  plain  English,  (for  I 
can  make  nothing  else  of  it,)  «  they  have  so 
"  scrupulously  adhered  to'  the  rule,  that,  some- 
"  times,  for  the  sake  of  observing  it,  they  have 
"  been  obliged  to  break  it."  />.  nS. 

I  believe,  every  reader,  who,  in  perusing  the 
Greek  Tragedians,  has  taken  the  pains  to  examine 
this  matter,  must  be  sensible,  that  what  Dacier 
80  confidently  asserts,  of  their  constant  adherence 

to 


N    O    T    E    S.  343 

to  this  rule,  is  palpably  false.    I  shall  only  men- 
tion  one  remarkable  instance  of  the  utter  neglect 
of  it,  and  that  in  Sophocle.s  ;  who,  in  this,  as 
in  other  respects,  is  usually  regarded,  I  think'  as 
the  most  correct  and  regular  of  the  three  Greek 
Poets  whose  Tragedies  are  in  our  hands.    In  his 
TrachinitEy  v.  632,  Lichas  sets  out  to  carry  the 
poisoned  garment  to  Hercules,  whom  he  finds 
upon  the  Cenaan  promontory,  which  is  said'  to 
M  about  sixty  Italian  miles  from  the  scene  of  the 
action.  At  v.  734,  Hyllus,  who  was  present  M'hen 
his  father  received  the  garment,  arrives  with  the 
terrible  relation  of  its  effects.     Thus,  during  the 
pertbrmance  of  about  a  hundred  lines,  a  journey 
of  about  one  hundred  and  twenty  Italian  miles  is 
supposed  toliave  been  taken.— For  this,  and  other 
instances  of  the  same  kind,  I  must  content  myself 
with  referring  the  reader  to  the  sensible  and  well 
written  Estratto  delta  Poetica  d' Aristotile,  pub- 
lished among  the  posthumous  works  of  Metastasio, 
and  which  did  not  fall  into  my  hands  till  all  my 
notes  were  written.  It  contains  many  ingenious  and 
sagacious  observations.     The  subject  of  the  dra- 
matic unities,  in  particular,  is  discussed  at  large, 
and,  I  think,  in  a  very  masterly  and  satisfactory 
way.     And,  with  respect  to  the  stiict  unities  of 
time  and  place,  he  seems  perfectly  to  have  suc- 
ceeded in  shewing,  that  no  such  rules  were  im- 

posed 


'  By  Metastasio. 


344  NOTES. 

posed  on  the  Greek  Poets  by  the  critics,  or  by 
themselves ;— nor  are  imposed  on  any  Poet,  either 
by  the  nature,  or  the  end,  of  the  dramatic  imi- 
tation itself  ^ 

It  would  be  inexcusable  to  quit  this  subject 
without  reminding  the  reader,  that  the  imitics  of 
time  and  place,  were  long  ago  powerfully,  and,  in 
my  opinion,  unanswerably  combated,  as  far  as 
tlmir  principks  are  concerned,  by  Dr.  Johnson,  in 
bis  preface  to  Shakspeare,  p.  20,  &c. 


••  Capitolo  5. 


-V- 


*:np  of  the  first  volume. 


Undfen  :  Prwitcd  bj  Luke  Han^rd  rk  Sorii, 
new  LincoluVlun  Fitld*. 


FEb  li 


ml 


.-.V.  . 


Jr* 


<^^i'i!ih}n 


■i 


I'' 


?>: 


iM 


I  i   ?il 


4-  •    ;   •    . 

•  •- 1  •  ■ 


;» '     * 


'fft;*  *: 


Ts 


■  J*3»-y' 


-    -*»;1 


'-*•* 


vM-i 


t ,» 


^  ^  >    •  >  t. 


■M^'*^,  ^*^rtr^Tr*Tr?53r  T^i 


^»f ,  > » i 


*  *  >-  ...*■■ 


I 


r  >. 


V 


f  i,>*TT""*'**  irT'*' 


vr-»—  -- 


-,?|l|m,,^- 


IrU*. 


I  '^     ll 


ARISTOTLE'S 


TREATISE  ON  POETRY. 


TRANSLATED: 


^/\t^\ 


sx 


Columbia  Winktv^v 

m  t1]e  Citi»  of  ilf  to  Bovk 


LIBRARY 


GIVEN   BY 


Ur.  ^ 


WITH 


NOTES 

ON  THE  TRANSLATION,  AND  ON  THE  ORIGINAL; 


AND 


TWO  DISSERTATIONS, 

ON  POETICAL,  AND  MtJSICAL,  IMITATION. 


BY  THOMAS  TWINING,  M.A. 


THE    SECOND    EDITION, 
m    TWO    VOLUMES, 

BY  DANIEL  TWINING,  M.A. 

VOL.  II. 


■x: 


JLtrnton, 

Printed  by  Luke  Hantard  df-  Sons,  near  Lincoln*s-Inn  Fields : 

ATfD    SOLD    BY 

T.  CADELL    AND    W.  DAVIE8,    IN    THE    ITRAND  ;     PAYNE,    PALL-MALL' 
WHITE,    COCHRANE,    AND    CO.    FLEET-STREET  J  ' 

LONGMAN,    HURST,    REE8,  OKME,    AND    BROWN,    PATERNOSTER-ROW  J 
DEIOHTON,   CAMBRIDGE;   and   PARKER,    OXFORD. 

1812.    ' 


-.1 


i 
4 


^>^W^-^'y:''^^l^  ^  ^ 


NOTES. 


Gift 
Dr.  JAMES  PtC^ 

June  7,  1913 


•^-  ( 


NOTE     44. 

P.  11 6.     In  the  way,  not  of  narration, 

BUT  OF  ACTION. 

TT  is  surprising,  that  so  strange  a  phrase  as 
-*-  f »Vwk  -^—  «Jf wj^Twv  — forms  — agent ibus — should 
have  passed  as  genuine  with  any  Greek  scholar. 
It  is  still  more  so,  that  the  obvious  opposition  of 
S^mrm  to  iiroLyyiXia^  and  the  no  less  obvious 
absurdity  of  opposiifg  narration  to  pity  and  terror, 
{i  Ji'  iwa.YYiXiOL^^  AAA  A  iC  IXf8  xa»  ^ojSs)  should 
have  escaped  the  notice  of  any  commentator  *• — 
I  should  write  the  passage  thus ;  still  considering 
it  as  imperfect : — x*^fK  Ikath   rm   u^m    %¥    toic 


fAO^ioiq 


>»  #  * 


[forte  AIAJ   ^^uvruv  x<xi  »  h*  drrxy' 


'  See  the  beginning  of  cap,  iii.  TramL  sect,  4. — I  am 
glad  to  find  myself  well  supported  in  these  remarks  by 
Mr,  Winstanley's  note  on  this  passage.  Ed,  Ox,  1780, 
p,  278. — I  cannot,  however,  but  still  regard  the  text  as 
defective. 

VOL.  II.  B  . 


\. 


^  NOTES. 

Thus  the  word  ^^uvruv  will  retain  its  proper  sense, 
and  the  aclive  imitation  of  the  drama,  which 
Aristotle  every  where  makes  its  characteristic  dis- 
tinction, as  opposed  to  the  Epic,  will  be,  as  we 
might  expect  to  find  it,  in  a  fonnal  and  ej:act 
definition  of  Tragedy,  distinctly  marked. 

I  will  just  observe,  farther,  that  this  mode  of 
expression— cT^ajvTa^v  KAl  or  ^,  *V.  is  familiar  to 
Aristotle.— Here  however  it  may  be  justified  by 
the  necessity  of  marking  clearly  the  distinction 
between  Dramatic  and  Epic  Poctrv.     In  other 

instances,  as,  hs^ujg  xxt  y,n   roy  airov  T^OTToy,    cap,  i. 
«'f    rov    ocCtov    xa»   f^n    ^ErajSaAA^i/ra.    cap.    iii.— . 

il^c^i  xat  lAfi  dyyom.  Eth.  Kic.  v.  8.— it  seems 
hardly  to  admit  of  the  same  excuse.  In  the  Poets 
we  are  less  surprised  to  find  it  frequent.  Victorius 
has  pointed  out  Homer,  II.  Z.  :i:i^. 

and  Sophocles : 

-  yvcarocy  k  ax  ocyvu}Toc  fjtoi 

If  any  man,  in  reading  the  antients,  can  persuade 
himself  to  take  such  things  for  beauties,  there  is 
certainly  no  harm  in  it.  Tlie  Ikct  I  take  to  be, 
that  composition,  even  that  of  Poetry,  was  not  yet 
so  far  improved  and  refined,  as  perfectly  to  exclude 
the  inaccuracies  ^nd  redundancies  of  popular  and 
familiar  speech. 


NOTES. 


NOTE    45. 


P.  116.     Effecting,  through  pity  and 

TERROR,    the    CORRECTION    AND    REFINEMENT 
OF    SUCH    PASSIONS. 

y.aTU¥  xaOa^o-ik. — A  history  of  the   controversies 
which  this  obscure   passagfe    has  excited  among 
critics  and  commentators,  and  an  exact  statement 
and  examination  of  the  various  explanations  which 
have  been  given  of  it,  would  almost  fill  a  volume. 
Among  these,   however,   the  opinions,    that  are 
worth  regarding,  or  that  can,  with  any  shew  of 
probability,  be  deduced  from  Aristotle's  expression, 
are,  I  think,  reducible  to  two.     One  is,  that  this 
purgation,  or  moderation^  of  the  passions,  is  merely 
the  effect  of  having  them  frequently  excited,  and 
of  being  familiarized  with  the  occasions  of  them,  in 
Tragic  fiction ;  just  as  the  passions  of  pity  and 
terror  are  actually  purged,  or  reduced  to  mode- 
ration, in  a  surgeon,  a  physician,  or  a  soldier,  by 
their  being  accustomed  to  those  terrible  or  piteous 
objects   that  occasion    them. — The  other  inter- 
pretation attributes  the  effect  to  the  moral  lessmi 
and  example  of  the  drama :  Tragedy  purges  the 
passions  by  the  striking  pictures  it  sets  before  us 
of  the  dreadful  calamities  occasioned  by  the  un- 
restrained  indulgence  of  them ;  by  giving  useful 
waniingSj  and  preparing  us  to  bear  the  ills  of  life 

B  2  with 


»  NOTES. 

with  patience. — One,  or  the  other,  or  bothy  of 
these  meanings,  have,  I  think,  been  attributed  to 
Arbtotle  by  the  best  commentators  aixl  critics. 
For  the  first,  the  reader  may  see  Mr.  Harris's 
Disc,   on  Music,   Painiitig,  &c.  cA.  v.  note  ^ — 
Ileins.  De  Trag.  Const,  cap.  ii.  p.  22,   23.  and 
CastelvetrOy  p.  11 7,  11 8. — For  the  second,  Ma- 
dias;— D'Alembert   in   his   letter   to    Kousseau, 
Melanges,  torn.  ii.  p.  414. — Dryden.  Obs.  on  the 
iEneid. — Abb6  Du  Bos,  Rejl.  sur  la  Poesie,  torn.  i. 
sect.  44.  &c. — For  an  explanation  compounded 
of  the  two,  Robortelli,  Piccolomini,  and  Dacier,, 
who,  by  the  way,  after  declaring  that  all  the  ex- 
planations of  former  commentators  "  served  only 
**  to  obscure  the  passage,''  and  that  the  true  sense 
was  720t  to  be  found  in  any  of  than^  proceeds  to 
give  us,  as  that  true  sense,  and  as  his  own  dis- 
covery, exactly  what  had  been  said  before  him  *. 
Let  us  first  see  what  Aristotle  says.     He  says, 
that  Tragedy,  by  the  means  of  pity  and  terror, 
effects  the  purgation  (xa6a^<rt>)  of  such  passions  : 
i,  e.  of  pity  and  terror  and  other  passions  of  the 
same  kind  :  for  pity  and  terror  seem  clearly  meant, 
by  the  expression,  to  be  included  in  the   effect. 
And  this,  in  my  opinion,  is  sufficient  to  overturn 
the  second  of  the  explanations  just  mentioned  ;  for, 
according  to  that,  terror  and  pity  are  not  both  the 
means  and  the  object  of  the  purgation,  as  Aristotle, 
I  think,  asserts  them  to  be,  but  they  are  the  means 

only 

^'-^— — i^^^i^i— — — ^-^M I  »  l»  ■  ■  II  null  ■■ 

•  See  his  note  8, 


NOTES.  5 

mly  of  purging  other  passions — those  passions, 
whatever  they  may  be,  which  are  supposed  to 
produce  the  calamitous  events  exhibited  to  our 
view.  Indeed,  according  to  this  idea,  the  object 
b  rather  the  vice  that  arises  from  passion,  than  tlie 
passion  itself  which  is  the  cause  of  it.  But,  be- 
sides thi^  objection,  I  do  not  see  any  reason  to 
think,  that  the  rnord  lesson  of  the  drama,  and  the 
effects  it  might  have  in  moderating  our  passions 
through  the  reflections  it  excites  in  us,  were  at  all 
in  Aristotle's  thoughts  *.  The  first  of  the  two 
explanations  seems  far  more  admissible.  I  believe 
it  made  a  part  of  his  idea,  but  I  doubt  whether  it 
was  the  whole  of  it.  What  was  precisely  his 
meaning,  and  the  whole  of  his  meaning,  will  never, 
I  fear,  be  the  subject  of  a  perfect,  Stoical  xara^- 
Xu|»c  to  any  man.  There  is,  however,  one  passage 
in  Aristotle's  works,  which  throws  smne  little  light 
upon  this ;  enough,  at  least,  to  keep  us  from  false 
interpretations,  if  not  to  lead  us  to  the  true.  It  is 
in  the  seventh  chapter  of  his  eighth  book  De 
Republicd.  The  Abbe  Batteux  is  the  only  com- 
mentator  I  know  of,  who  has  paid  a  proper 
attention  to  this  passage ;  but  as  I  do  not  perfectly 
agree  with  him,  either  as  to  the  translation  he  has 
given,  or  the  use  he  makes  of  it,  I  sliall  produce 
so  nmch  of  the  original  as  appears  to  be  of  any  # 
importance  to  our  present  purpose,  and  subjoin  a 
translation,  with  some  necessary  remarks. 

.  The 

*  Sec  the  concluding  noT£. 
B3 


i  NOTES. 

The  object  of  Aristotle,  in  the  chapter  referred 
to,  is,  to  examine  what  kinds  of  Music  (i.  e.  of 
melody  and  rhythm,)  are  proper  to  be  used  in  the 
education  of  youth.  He  mentions  and  approves 
a  division,  made  by  some  philosophical  writers  of 
that  time,  of  the  different  kinds  of  melodies,  into 
Moral,  Active,   and  Enthusiastic :  ra  fxtu  H0IKA, 

Tcc  ^f  nPAKTIKA,  roc  i'  EN0OTIIA2TIKA.  By 
the  first  of  these  we  are  to  understand  a  manly, 
grave,  and  simple  melody.  The  sense  of  Tr^axrixa 
is  less  clear ;  but  I  suppose  it  means  a  more  com- 
^  plicated  and  imitative  sort  of  melody,  adapted  to 
express  human  actions;  for,  in  tlie  49th  of  the 
Harmonic  Problems  [Sect.  19.]  it  is  said  of  the 
Hypo- Phrygian  mode,  that  it  had  ii9©^  ?r^axTixo», 
and  was,  on  that  account,  used  only  in  the  dia- 
logue and  action  of  the  drama,  never  in  the  choral 
part  ^  And  the  same  epithet,  ^r^axTixa*,  is  applied, 
in  this  treatise,  to  the  Iambic  measure  ^  As  to 
enthusiastic,  it  wants  no  explanation. — Aristotle 
tlien  proceeds  to  observe,  that  "  Music  was  to  be 

"  used, 

■■  "  ■  ■  ■  » ,    „ ,  ^ 

**  He  says  too — xara  S'e  t>iv  i^oSiufin  xau  biro^^uyiriy 
IIPATTOMEN'  6  ix  oIkuo'j  kri  x^^^'  ^'i  yap  0  x^f ^  Krfhinr)^ 
AnPAKTOS.  —  u,T.K  —  The  whole  Problem,  though 
mutilated,  is  curious,  and  throws  some  litde  glimmering  of 
light  upon  the  Greek  drama,  as  far  as  Music  is  con- 
cerned. 

/  *^  Cap,  xxiv. — TO  fJLVH  [i.  e.  the  Trochaic  tetrameter,] 
ofX>'^«cv  TO  h,  [the  Iambic  verse,]  FIPAKTIKON.  Whence 
Horace's, — "  natum  nbus  agcndis,*  A.  P.  83. 


NOTES.  7 

**  used,  not  for  one  useful  purpose  only,  but  for 
"  several,"  which  he  enumerates;  and  one  of 
them   is  —  KAOAPDEXIS  Ivixx  :    with  respect  to 

which  he  says  —  t»  h  Kiyo^tv  rriv  xoc^tx^c-iv^  yvv 
/t*fv,  aVxwf  TraXik  ^£,  EN   TOIS  OEPI   nOlHTIKHS, 

i^8/x4v  tra^sfi^oy : — "  What  I  mean  by  KaOa^^-K, 
*'  or  purgation,  I  shall  now  explain  only  in  a 
"  short  and  general  way ;  but  hereafter,  in  the 
"  books  concerning  Poetry,  more  explicitly  and 
"  clearly." — And  this,  I  suppose,  he  had  done, 
in  that  part  of  this  treatise  which  is  lost. — • 
He  then  proceeds  thus  : — 

viocig,  i  rov  pcijTov  ds  tdottcv  ^cKrotig  %pijg'6ov '  aXXa 
TToog  jLtev  Tfiv  7rocideta.v,  roag  i^iKUiroLTonq '  'jroog  oi 
aK^ooca-iv  [f.  KA0AP2^1N],  In^cov  xet^a^ywTuv, 
Koci  Totig  'jrorxKTiy.aigy  xxi  Toctg  Bv9ii(rixg-i:cong.  9  yoto 
'rreoi   Iviug  crvfjifiocivei  7ra5©^  4^^^%^^  *V%t;f^'^,  tuto 

Iv    TTOCCOtig    VTTOtoya'     TO)    06    TjTTOV  SlCtfBPBl     XOU     TUt 

fjLocWov.  oW,  EAEOS  KAI  OOBOL.  In  J'  gi/fe- 
orioto'fi'^'     Kou     yoto    vtto     TavTTjg     rr.g     Ktvvi(reci}g 

K9CT0CKCt)ytlJi0l     TlVBg      BKTiV.     BK    OB     TtOV      IBDCOV     fJLBACOV 

OQU)fjLBv  THT\igy  oTocv  y^oif}(rct)VTou  roig  B^o^yix^acrt  Trjv 
4^1^%^^  p£Xg(r<,  ycocQig-xfjLBvug,  cocttbo  IATPEIAS 
rvx^vf^^  jea*  KA0APSEflE.  tocvto  Syj  tuto 
avoLyaocicv  7roLC")(etv  Koci  rag  B'hByifJLOVocg,  ycoci  rag 
(pol3y}TiKiig,  Koct  mg  cXoog  7rot6r}Tix.iig'  r^g  6    ciXkhgy 

Kxd      OCOV    iTTifiuXXn    TCOV    TOlfiTUV    %KOC^ta,   KOCl  TTdCl 

B  4  ytyvBO'Goci 


»  NOTES, 

ryvB^rQcti     TINA    KA0AP2IN,    xau    Kitp^e(r6ccc 
fXBd'  jSovrjg,     [p.  45^.  Ed.  Duval.]  •        " 

In 

*  This  passage  may  be  considered,  alone,  as  a  complete 
refutation  of  an  opinion  published  some  years  ago  by 
Professor  Moor,  of  Glasgow,  on  the  subject  discussed  in 
this  note.     He  asserts,  that  by  ^ro^^ra  Aristotle  does  not 
mean  fassions,  but  sufferings,  or  caj^imiim ;  and  that  the 
sense  of  3^;  Iaes  xai  <po^^  Trs^a^vaaa  mv  rm  toihtuv  Trady^tm 
Ha6a^<nv,  is~efFecting,   or  endeavouring  to  effect,  "  the 
'^removal of  suc/i  calamities^  (i.e.    as  are  represented  in 
Tragedy,)  "by  means  of  exciting  the  passions  of  pity  and 
«  terror."     But  the  sense,  both  of  KaQa^<nu  and  of  9ra^, 
(Mara,  is   fixed,  beyond  dispute,   by  the  passage  I  have 
quoted,  where  >^i/y,  terror,  and  othtv  passions,  are  clearly 
mentioned  as  the  objects  of  the  j^^^crif,  or  purgation. 
The  Professor  also  asserts,  that  the  word,  wfiich  Aristotle 
uniformly  uses  to  express  the  passions,  is  ^«^,  and  that  by 
5rafin^T*  is  "  always  meant  sufferings,  or  calamities:'  This 
IS  a  mistake.     liaBn  is  continually  used  by  Aristotle  in  the 
sense  of  sufferings ;  and  Tra^^ra  sometimes,  though  less 
frequently,  in  the  sense  of  passions.     So  Rhet.  II.  22, 

P-  S74«  C-     *«*  9r5fi  7QV  >,Q(cf^  xai  nA0HMATX2N "  con- 

'^cerning  manners  and  passions^  See  also,  Moral. 
Eudem.  II.  2.  p.  205.  B.  where  to^  and  Tra&^ra  are 
used  synonymously.  Many  other  instances,  I  make  no 
doubt,  are  to  be  found  in  Aristotle's  works. 

I  should  add,  that  I  take  my  account  of  this  explanation, 
•md  the  arguments  by  which  it  is  supported,  from  the 
Monthly  Review,  vol.  xxx.  p.  65  ;  not  having  been  able  to 
procure  the  pamphlet  itself,  of  which  the  title  is— ^*  On  the 
"  end  of  Tragedy,  according  to  Aristotle  :  an  Essay,  in  two 
parts,  ^c.—By  Jam^s  Moor',  LL.D.  Prof,  of  Greek  in 
the  Umv.  of  Glasgow  r^lt  is  mentioned  again,  with  ap. 
probation,  in  the  64th  vol.  of  the  same  Review,  p.  556, 


€l 


NOTES.  9 

In  this  passage,  for  dx^oxtriv  I  have  no  doubt 
that  we  should  read  xa9a^<r*v.  The  similitude  of 
the  words  is  sufficient  to  account  for  the  mistake 
of  the  transcriber ;  and  the  purport  of  the  whole 
passage  seems  to  require  the  correction.  For 
Aristotle  is  here  shewing,  in  what  manner  the 
three  different  kinds  of  melody  were  to  be  ap- 
plied to  the  different /?Mrpci^tf^,  which  he  had  just 
enumerated :  wpo?  MEN  ttw  IIAIAEIAN,  ronq  ^hx. 

vjog  AE    TDy    KA0AP2IN,  —  raif   TrjaxTixaif,     &c. 

The  opi>osition  is  clear.  And  so,  aftenvards,  a 
third  purpose  is  mentioned — v^og  ANAIIATSIN, 
[p«  459-]  The  words  immediately  following, 
iTifwi/  ^ei^H^yBvTuvy  probably  contributed  to  this 
mistake.  They  allude  to  his  doctrine,  in  the 
preceding  chapter,  that  boys  should  not  be  al-  ^ 
lowed  to  practise  or  perform,  themselves,  any  but 
the  simplest  kind  of  Music,  and  upon  the  sim- 
plest and  easiest  instruments,  such  as  were  not 
^ioixivot  ;)^«f»f7'ix>if  i7nrri[Ang.  [p.  457.]  But  this 
was  not  the  character  either  of  the  active  and 
enthusiastic  melodies,  of  which  he  here  speaks,  or 
of  the  instrument  used  in  the  accompaniment  of 
them '. 

I  shall  now  give  what  I  think  a  fair  and  literal 
version  of  the  passage.  -  -  -  * 

"  It  is  manifest  then,  that  all  the  different  kinds 
"  of  melodies  are  to  be  made  use  of;    not  all, 

*'  however, 

^  The  Ai/^^.  See  ibid.  p.  459  and  457.  And  the  i** 
vol.  of  this  Work^  p.  225,  note". 


10  NOTES. 

"  however,  for  the  same  purpose.    For  education, 
*'  the   most  moral    kind    should    be   u»ed:    for 
''  PURGATION,  both  die  active,  and  the  enthu- 
"  siastic ;— performed,  however,  by  others.     For 
*'  those  passions,  which  in  some  minds  are  violent^ 
''exist,  more  or  less,  in  all;  such  as  pity,  for 
''  example,  and  terror:  and,  again,  enthusiasm; 
"  for  with  this  passion  some  men  are  subject  to 
- "  be  possessed :  but  when   the   sacred  melodies, 
"  intended  to  compose  the  mind  after  the  cele- 
"  bration  of  the  orgic  rites,  have  been  performed, 
"  we  see  those  men  become  calm  and  sedate,  as 
"  if  they  had  undergone  a  kind  of  purgation,  or 
*'  cure.     And  the  case  must  necessarily  be  the 
"  same  with  those  who  are  particularly  liable  to 
*'  be  moved  by  pity,  or  terror,  or  any  other 
"  passion ;  and  with  other  men,  as  far  as  they 

are  under  the  influence  of  any  such   passion; 

all  of  them  experiencing  a  sort  0/ purgation, 

"    and  PLEASURABLE    RELIEF." 

From  this  passage,  though  far  enough,  I  am 
sensible,  from  being  perfectly  clear  and  explicit, 
two  things,  at  least,  may,  I  think,  be  confidently 
deduced. —  1.  That  whatever  be  the  meanintr  of 
tlie  term  xaflaferi?,  or  purgation,  here,  must  also 
be  its  meaning  iu  the  treatise  on  Poetry;  since  to 
that  work  Aristotle  refers  for  a  fuller  explanation 
of  it.  The  only  difference  is,  that  here,  the  term 
is  ap[)lied  to  the  effect  of  imitative  Afusic ;  there, 
to  that  of  imitative  Poctn/ ;  of  that  species  of  it, 
2  however, 


NOTES.  II 

however,  which  depended,  we  know,  upon  Music, 
for  a  very  considerable  part  of  its  effect.  2.  It 
is  plain,  that,  according  to  Aristotle's  idea,  pity 
was  to  be  purged  by  pity,  terror  by  terror,  &c. ; 
contrary  to  the  second  of  the  two  explanations 
above-mentioned.  For  Aristotle  is  here  expressly 
speaking  of  the  use  of  enthusiastic  Music  applied 
flTfof  xoc^x^tnv;  and  he  says,  that  men,  agitated 
by  enthusiasm,  were  purged  or  relieved  from  that 
enthusiasm  by  the  U^x  juiAtj,  which  were  plainly 
enthusiastic  melodies;  i.e.  such  as  imitated,  or 
expressed,  that  passion,  and  were  intended  to  calm 
the  min/J,  which  had  been  violently  agitated  and 
inflamed ;  not,  as  M.  Batteux  understands,  by 
the  sudden  opposition  of  Doric,  grave,  and  moral 
strains,  [p.  280,  1.]  but  by  pleasurahle  indulgeiice 
of  the  same  passion  in  imitative  Music :  xa^i^irSat 
/lAfft'  nVok»)ff.  Tliese  melodies  were,  probably,  such 
as  those  of  Olympus,  which  had  been  mentioned 
just  before  [cap.  5,]  and  of  which  Aristotle  says, 
that  they,  '0/AoAoya/ifj»wf  noiEI  TAX  ^TXAS 
ENeOTXIASTIKAS.  Indeed,  from  the  manner, 
in  which  the  Music  of  Olympus  is  spoken  of  by 
Plato,  and  Plutarch,  there  is  great  reason  to  sup- 
pose, that  these  '^  sacred  melodies''  were  no  other, 
than  the  very  melodies  of  that  musician  ^ 

With 


^  — T8f  vofjiHi  th;  apfjiovucag  iisveyKEv  [sc.  Olympus.'}  tig  irjv 
ExxaJ'a,  hi;  vi/v  x^^vrai  bi  EXArjvfj  h  ruig  ec^rai;  tmv  9iuv.  Plut» 
de  Mus,  p.  2076.  fd,  H.  S.     See  also  Plato  in  ih^  Minos, 

pag.  318. 


i^ 


»2  NOTES. 

With  respect  to  this  xcix^rn  itself,  Aristotle 
by  no  means  gives  us  in  this  passage,  nor,  indeed, 
professes  to  give  us,  a  full  and  satisfactory  ex- 
planation of  it.     Some  light,   however,    be   has 
flung   upon   it  by  the  expressions,   Icct^h^,  and 
««^.^t,9«.  /.c9'  nimt,  which  he  uses  as  synony- 
.  mous  to  x«e«f  ,.f :  "  Fwgat ion,  cure,  pleasurable 
relief."    The  Abb^  Batteux  understands  Aristotle 
to  mean  no  more  by  this,  than  that  the  passions 
of  terror  or  pitj/,   which,  when  excited   by  real 
objects,   are  simply  painful,  or,  at  least,  have  a 
predominant  mixture  of  pain,  are,  by  imlatmi, 
and  tlie  consciousness  of fctfon,  purged  or  pun- 
fied  from  this  alloy  of  the  disagreeable  and  pain- 
ful, and  converted,  on  the  who\e,  into  an  emotion 
of  delight.     His  meaning  may  be  clearer  in  his 
own  words.     Aristotle,  he  says,  had  established 
it  as  a  principle—"  Que  les  objets  desagriables 
"  plaisent  quand  ils  sont  imitSs,  nidme  torsqu'ils 
"  le  sotit  dam  la  plus  grande  veriUK     En  appli- 
^^  quant  ce  principe  k  la  Tragedie,  il  s'ensuit,  que 
"^  c'est  I'imitation  qui    est  la   cause  du  plaisir 
"  quelle  produit,  et  non  Ja  nature  des  objets 
imit^s,  puisque  ces  objets  sont  par  eux-meines 
"  d^sagreables.     C'est  done  I'imitation  qui  6te  k 

"  la 

pag.  318.  ed.  Strr.   where  he  says  of  the  melodies  of 
Marsyas  and  Olympus,  that  they  are,  0EIOTATA    ,« 
f«va  KINEI._See  Dr.  Bumey's  Hiu.  of  Muuc,  U  i. 
P-  3S9»  &c. 


c< 


«( 


*  Caf,  iv.  Trantl.  Part  I.  Sect.  5. 


«( 


<( 


4< 


<( 


U 


notes:  ij 

la  terreur  et  i  la  pitie  Taccessoire  d^sagr^able 
qu  elles  ont  dans  la  reality :  c'est  Vimitation  qui 
opere  la  purgation  Tragique,  en  mettant  les 
"  malheurs  imit6s  k  la  place  des  malheurs  r6els, 
*'  et  en  s6parant  par  ce  moyen  ce  que  la  pitie  et 
**  la  terreur  ont  d'agr^able,  comme  emotions, 
d  avec  ce  qu'elles  ont  de  d6sagr6able,  quand 
elles  sont  jointes  k  Yidie  de  malheurs  r6els  **." 
This  account,  which  is  exactly  Fontenelle's  solu-. 
tion  of  the  pleasure  arising  from  Tragic  emotion', 
is  liable  to  a  difficulty  not  easily,  I  think,  sur-> 
mounted.  It  confines  Aristotle's  meaning  to  the 
present  pleasure  of  the  emotion ;  it  supposes  all 
the  purgation  to  consist  merely  in  rendering  the 
feeling  of  the  passion  pleasurable; — not  in  any 
good'  effect  which  the  habit  of  such  emotion  may 
produce,  in  correcting,  refining,  or  moderating, 
such  passions,  when  excited  by  real  objects.  Now, 
though  it  must  be  confessed,  that  Aristotle  has 
not,  in  that  short  and  professedly  imperfect  expla- 
nation given  of  the  x«6a^cr«f  in  the  passage  ad- 
duced, said  any  thing  directly  pointing  to  such 
effect,  yet,  I  think,  the  whole  turn  and  cast  of  his 

expression 


^  Principes  de  la  Literature,  torn.  iii.  p.  8i.— I  refer 
to  that  work,  because  the  author  appears  to  me  to  have 
explained  himself  there  with  more  clearness  and  preci- 
sion  than  in  the  note  on  his  translation  of  Aristode  in 
the  Quatre  Poetiques, 

*  Reflect,  sur  la  Poeti^ue,  Sect,  36. — Hume's  Essay 

on  Tragedy,  "^ 


14  NOTES. 

expression  is  such,  as  leads  one  naturally  to  con- 
clude, that  it  was  his  meaning.  The  phrase, 
Jt«<pt^£(r0a»  ^f8'  nVovnr,  does  indeed  appear  to  ex- 
press the  present  effect  only ;  but  I  can  scarce 
conceive,  that  he  would  have  used  such  a  word  as 
xaSa^erif,  and  Still  less,  lATPEIA,  without  a  view  to 
something  beyond  the  pleasurable  relief  or  vent 
of  the  moment ;  especially,  in  a  chapter,  where 
he  is  professedly  enumerating  and  examining  the 
uses  of  music  ^  Farther,  the  words,  lAirj/Aova?, 
^oj3?iTi)csf,  7ra9>3Ttx«?,  confirm  this  idea:  beinor  all 
words  expressive  of  habitual  ej'cess,  requiring 
correction  and  moderation  \ 

But,  what  still  more  strongly  opposes  the  Abbe 
Batteux's  idea,  is,  that  Aristotle  is  here,  as  Hein- 
sius  and  others  have  well  observed,  evidently 
combating  the  doctrine  of  Plato,  whose  great 
objection  to  Tragedy,  was,  that  it  feeds  and  in- 
flames the  passions  ™  It  could  be  no  answer  to 
this,  to  allege,  that  the  feeling  of  passion  excited 
by  Tragic  imitation  is  pleasurable;  for  this  is  so 
fer  from  being  called  in  question  by  Plato,  that  it 
is   the   very  foundation   of  his  objection.     The 

pleasure 

Uhi  supra, 

^  '  The   same  thing  seems  implied  in  the  word  xora- 

nuxifMt'y  and  in  the  express] (>n — o  ya^  mpi  h/ia^  a-u/x^aivn 

waQ(^  4.ux<x;  IIXTPhS . 

°*  TPE^EI  ya^  raura,  he  says,  in  his  figurative  lan- 
guage, APAOT2A,  a^y  ATXMEIN.— i>^  Repub.  lib,  x. 
p.  6o6,  D, 


/ 


NOTES.  t5 

pleasure  afforded  by  such  Poetry  is  allowed  by 
him  in  its  utmost  extent".  ''  Let  its  advocates," 
he  says,  "  undertake  to  shew  us  that  it  is  not 
"  merely  pleasurable,  but  useful  also,  and  we 
"  will  lend  a  favourable  ear  to  their  apology ;  for 
"  we  shall  surely  be  gainers  by  the  conviction  ^" 
Now  Aristotle,  if  I  understand  him  rightly,  un- 
dertakes this  apology,  and  points  out  the  utility 
required.  And  no  one,  I  think,  can  reasonably 
doubt,  that  such  was  his  intention,  who  has  at- 
tended   to   the   following   passage   of    Plato:— 

aToXocvHv  Auxyxn  cctto  twv  u?0<qt^iuv  iU  ra  olKtix' 
©PE^ANTA  yx^  ly  Ueiyoig  ISXTPON  TO  EAEEI- 
NON,  8  pxSiov  Iv  Totg  'ATTOT  RAQEXl  KATEXEIN  ^ 
For,  to  this  objection,  there  cannot  well  be  a  more 
direct  and  pointed  answer,  than  Aristotle's  asser* 
tion,  as  usually  understood— that  the  habit  of 
indulging  the  emotions  of  pity,  or  terror,  in  the 

fictitious 

*  ■  

■  IW.  p.  607,  C.  D.  et  passim. 

•  AoifAiv  3£  ye    TTH   av  km  roi^  TT^oraTcu;  auui; .  xoyov 

m^t  ainm  tlmiv^  wj  i  fzovov  'HAEIA  axxx  hm  n<&EArMH 
'JTfo;  ra^  ToAtTcwtj  km  tov  ^lov  rov  dvQ^umvov  zri,  km  ivftsmi 
axii<rof^E9x.  xs^^avHf^  ya^  tth,  eav  /x>,  fju>m  h^sux  <pavn.  o^^a 
KAI  n4»EAIMH.— //^/V. 

»  Ibid.  606.  B.— *«  The  habit  of  indulging  our  pas- 
"  sions  in  the  concerns  of  others,  will,  of  necessity, 
«'  bring  on  the  same  habitual  indulgence  in  those  whicfc 
"  relate  to  ourselves:  for  he,  who  has  nourished  and 
"  strengtliened  to  excess  the  passion  of  pity,  for  example, 
"  by  habitual  sympathy,  in  the  misfortunes  of  other  men, 
*^  will  not  find  it  easy  to  restrain  the  same  kind  of  feelings 
"  in  his  oif^j." 


»6  NOTES, 

fictitious  representations  of  Tragedy,  tends,  on  the 
cmtrary,  to  moderate  and  reti.,e  those  passions 
when  they  occur  in  real  life.  ' 

But  though  the  Abb6  Catteux's  idea  of  this 
purgatcon  appears  to  me  by  no  means  to  be  the 
-u^hde.  It  must,  I  think,  be  admitted  as  a  part 
and  an   essential   part,   of   Aristotles  meani„.r.' 
Tor   the   effect  depends,   not   merely,   as  some 
commentators  seem  to  suppose  \  on  the  having 
our  passions  frequently  and  habitually  excited^ 
but,  on  the  having  them  so  excited  by  fictitioul 
representation.     Pity  and  teiTor  frequently  ex- 
cited by  such  objects  and   such  events  in  real 
Me    as  the  imitations  of  the  Tragic   scene   set 
before  us,  would  rather  tend  to  produce  apathy 
than  moderation.     Nature  would  struggle  aaainst 
such  violent  and  painful  agitation,  and  the  heart 
would  become  callous  in  its  own  defence.     We 
must  be  insensible,  that  we  might  not  be  wretched. 
It  is  far  otherwise  mthfctitious  passion.     There, 
the  emotion,  though  often  violent  in  spite  of  the 
consciousness  of  fiction,  is  always,  more  or  less 
delightful.     We  indulge  it,  as  one  of  the  first  of 
pleasures;    and  the  effect   of  that    indulgence 
frequently  repeated,  is  perhaps,  that,  while  it  mo- 
derates real  passion  by  the  frequency  of  similar 
ipjpressions,  it,  at  the  same  time,  cherishes  such 
sympathetic  emotions,  in  their  proper  and  useful 

' degree, 

»    Heinsius  De   Trag.  Conuit.  cap.  ii.  _  Harris   On 
Music,  &c.  ch.  V.  mtt  '. 


NOTES.  if 

degree,  by  tiie  delicious  feelings  which  never  fail 
to  accompany  the  indulgepce  of  them  in  imitative 
representation.  '  ' 

The  passions  of  savages,  or  of  men  in  the  first 
f u,de  stages  of  civilization,  are  ferocious  and  pain* 
ful.     They  pity,  or  they  fear,  either  violently,  or 
not   at  all.      With   them,   there  is  hardly  any 
medium  between  ungovernable  agitation,  and  ab- 
solute insensibility— Suppose  such  a  people  to 
have  access,    like   the   Athenians,    to   theatrical 
representations,  and  to  have  their  passions  kept  in 
frequent  and  pleasurable  exercise  by  fictitious 
distress ;  the  consequence,  I  think,  would  be,  that, 
by  degrees,  they  would  come  to  have  mote  feeling, 
and  less  perturbation.     Instead  of  sympathetic 
emotions  rarely  excited,  painfully  felt,  and  soon 
extinguished,    they  would    gradually  acquire  a 
calm,  lasting,  and  useful  habit  of  general  tender- 
ness and  sensibility.     In  polished  society,  where 
the  passions  are  accustomed  to  be  indulged  in 
fiction,  eitlier  in  the  theatre,  or  by  reading,  and 
the  pain  is  converted,  on  the  whole,  into  one 
strong   and   delightful  feeling,  by  the  charms  of 
inntation,  Poetry,   Music,  aided  by  the  indistinct 
consciousness   of  fiction -these   passions,  even 
when  excited  by  real  objects,  seem  to  retain,  (at 
least,  in  cases  where  we  are  not  too  closely  touch- 
ed,) some  tincture  of  the  same  pleasurable  emo- 
tion, which  attended  them,  when  raised  by  works 
of  imagination ;   they  are  more  moderately  and 
^*^'^-  "•  c  agreeably 


ii   ^  1^    O    t    E    S. 

igfefebly  felt,  mb^  easily  governed,  tod  rtore 
gentle  and  polished  in  their  expressions. 

Such  appears  to  me,  on  the  whole,  to  be  the 
most  probable  explmiation  of  Aristotle's  meaninc^ : 
I  must,  at  least,  confess  it  to  be  the  only  reason- 
able meaning,  that  I  am  able  to  discover.  How 
far  It  is  true,  and  founded  on  solid  observation, 
is  another  qoestFon,  which  I  willingly  submit  to  the 
^philosophical  and  thinking  part  of  my  readers. 

I  cannot  omit  to  observe,  that  the  short  eXpla- 
iiatioh  given  by  Milton,  in  the  introduction  to 
h\&  Samson  Agonist es,  appears  to  coincide  exiactly, 
nsfar  as  it  goes,  with  my  idea  of  the  passage.— 
'*  Tragedy,  as  it  was  anciently  composed,  hath 
*'  been  ever  held  the  gravest,  moralest,  and  most 
**  profitable  of  all  other  P6ems:  therefore  said 
**  by  Aristotle  to  be  of  power,  by  raising  pity, 
"  and  fear  or  terror,  to  purge  the  mind  of  those 
"  and  such  like  passions ;  that  isy  to  temper  and 
^  reduce  them  to  just  measure,  with  a  kind  of 
"  delight^  stirred  up  by  reading  or  seeing  those 
"  passions  well  imitated'^ 

'One  thing  should  be  added.  Aristotle's  asser- 
tion must  be  considered  relatively  to  his  own 
times,  and  nation.  He  speaks  of  the  effects  of 
Tragedy  on  the  people  of  Athens,  who,  as  irading 
was  then  no  popular  occupation ',  had  scarce  any 
opportunity  of  indulging  jifc^/Viow^  emotion,  h\M 
at  the  Theatre,  and  who,  we  know,  were  there 

accustomed 
i  See  Diss.  I.  vol,  i.  p,  62,  6cc. 


NOTES,  t# 

accustomed  to  indulge  it  perpetually*  With  us, 
the  case  is  widely  different.  The  doctrine, 
therefore,  of  Aristotle,  that  "  Tragedy  purges  the 
"  passions,"  translated,  if  I  may  so  speak,  into 
nwdem  truth,  would  perhaps  amount  only  to  tliis 
— that  the  habitual  exercise  of  the  passions  by 
works  of  imagination  in  general,  of  the  serious 
and  pathetic  kind,  (such  as  Tragedies,  Novels,  &c.) 
has  a  tendency  to  soften  and  refine  those  passions, 
when  excited  by  real  objects  in  common  life. 

NOTE    46. 

p.  116.    In  some  parts  metre  alone  is 

EMPLOYED,    IN    OTHERS    MELODY. 

A  passage  of  very  tantalizing  brevity.  By  ii^ 
fA,ir^m  MONON,  are  we  to  understand,'  according 
to  the  obvious  and  literal  meaning  of  the  ex- 
pression, that  in  some  parts  of  Tragedy  the  vefse 
was  merely  recited,  spoken,  as  in  modern  Tra^ 
gedy?— This  contradicts  what,  by  many  writers^ 
has  been  considered  as  a  fact  thoroughly  esta- 
blished, that  the  Greek  Tragedy  was  accompanied 
by  musical  instruments,  and  was  therefore  strictly 
musical,  throughout :— for  as  to  the  dreanis  of  the 
Abb^  Du  Bos,  Rousseau,  and  others,  about  a 
noted  declamation^  a  declamation  accompanied  by 
Music,  yet  not  sung— this  is  too  manifest  air  ab- 
surdity to  stand  in  need  of  confutation.  If,  ^ 
Rousseau  says,  it  is  "  impossible  to  understand 


t 


*<^  Kf    6    t    £    S. 

"  what  the  antients  haVe  said  about  their  theatrical 
"  declamation,  without  supposing  this',"  would 
it  not  be  better  to  say,  at  once,  that  we  do  mf 
understand  it,  than  to  explain  it  into  impossibili- 
ties!'   As  for  the  systematic  Abb^  Du  Bos,  he 
was  set  upon  proving  hb  point ;  and  he  proves  it 
like  a  man  resolved  to  prove  it,  by  wresting  all 
sorts  of  authors  to  his  purpose,  and  translating 
them  as  he  pleased  \     All  we  know  clearly,  is, 
that  the  antient  drama  am  accompanied,  (in  part, 
at  least,)  by  musical  instruments.     I   conclude, 
confidently,  that  since  the  instruments  could  not 
spea/c,  the  actors  must  sit?g :  that  their  declama- 
tion must  certainly  have  been,  strictly  speaking, 
musical,  however  simple;    the  chanting  of  the 
simplest  plain  chant,  being  as  truly  Music,  i.e.  as 
essentially  distinct  from  speech,  as  the  most  refined 
melody  of  a  modern  opera'. 

If,  then,  the  Greek  Tragedy  had  a  musical 
accompaniment  throughout,  it  must  have  been 
^ung  throughout.  But  here,  Aristotle  says,  as 
plainly  as  « ords  can  say  it,  that  in  some  parts  of 
Tragedy,  "  metre  only"  was  employed:— A* 
METPiiN  Iwa  MONON :  that  is,  as  it  is  necessa- 
rily implied,   mtlwut   the   two   other  iiv^t^xTiz, 


or 


*  Diet,  de  Musique,  Art.  Opera. 

'  For  a  refutation"  of  Du  Bos,  the  reader  may  sec 
Condillac's  Essai  sur  I'orig.  des  connoh.  humavu^ 
tome  iil.  ch,  j,-  ':> 

*  See  Diss.  ILvol.i.  /^.  78.  note  \ 


NOTES.  ti 

or  seasonings,  of  Tragic  language,  just  mentioned, 
melody  and  rhythm  **. 

Some  commentators,  I  know,  endeavour  to 
evade  the  force  of  this  expression,  by  saying,  that 
Aristotle  means,  by  ^ta  /xfT^wk  ^ovov,  only  the 
7ioted  declamatio7i,  which,  being  a  sort  of  recitative, 
was  not  regarded  as  strictly  musical,  nor  denomi- 
nated /xA©**.  And  in  support  of  this,  it  is 
alleged,  that  the  word  Xefif,  speech,  is  applied  by 
him  afterwards  in  a  similar  manner^;  as  Xiyi<r^M 
is  also  by  Plutarch,  who  talks  of  "  some  of  the 
"  Iambics  being  spoken  with  an  accompaniment y 
**  and  others  sung^T  as  we  sometimes  say  of  a 
singer,  that  he  spealcs  recitative  well.  But  all  this, 
I  confess,  does  not  satisfy  me.  It  is  one  thing,  to 
apply  occasionally  the  word  Aigi?  or  Xtyar^on,  in 
this  comparative  way,  to  such  kind  of  singing  as 
most  resembles  speech,  and  another,  to  say  roundly, 
that  some  parts  of  Tragedy  made  use  of  meti^Cy 
or  verse,  only ;  and  that  too,  immediately  after 
\i'dsmgjixed  the  exclusive  sense  of  juoi/ok,  by  enu- 
merating the  three  r^vcij^o^ra.  of  Tragic  diction, 
which  he  asserts  to  be  separately  used  in  different 

parts, 


Kai  fxtr^cv.     To  oc,  x^^fiJ  ruv  bIouv,  to  ^la  METPUN  ENIA 

*  So  M.  Batreux. 

'  See  c/i.  xii.— ASHII  5a»  XOPOT. 

5  Dial,  de  Mus.  p.  2090.   ed.  H.  S.— Ta  luv  My^j^m 

C3 


**  NOTES, 

parts,  r.  e.  puS^u®.,  «'f,tte„«,  juitjo,  »,—  rhythm, 
MELODY,  and  METRE.  They  who  .lis,,ute  this 
meaning,  must  at  least,  I  think,  allow  that  ii  it 
had  been  the  meanini^,  Aristotle  could  not  v^tll 
have  expressed  it  with  more  precision.  JIow 
can  /.ng^,  here  be  taken  in  the  loose  and  compa- 
rative sense  contended  for,  when,  in  the  v^ry 
words  iumiediately  preceding,  it  is  carefully  li,„ited 
to  Its  strict  and  proper  sense,  by  being  ex,jrcssly 
discriminated  from  melody,  as  well  as  (rom 
rhythm  ? 

But  after  all,  the  fact,  that  the  Greek  Tragedy 
was  smig  throughout,  tliough  olten  asserted,  has 
not  yet  been  proved;  nor  do  1  think  that  it  ccn 
be  proved  ;  at  least,  by  any  passage  ot  .ntient 
authors,  that  I  have  seen  adduced  to  prove  it. 
The  Abb^  Vatry,  in  a  dissertation,  Sur  la  recita- 
tion des  Tragedks  ancicmiei;  undertook  to  prove 
in  form,  that  the  Greek  Tragedies  were  suJ 
"  d'un  bout  a  I'autre,"  like  our  operas.  J5ut 
how  does  he  prove  this.?-  by  proving,  what  indeed 

-  is 

»«.  MEA02.  On  comparing  this  passage  wi>h  A  lo.le'; 
other  enumerations  of  the  three  means  of  i,„i.at.on  in 
cap. .  especially  at  the  end  of  it.  where  Tragedy  is  men- 
tioned  as  using  .//  those  means.  «aTa  ^^Q^,  L%^.  ^ 

METm  "  ^^rrr'  '°  ^^"?  elsewhere,)  «« 
METPii,  no  one,  I  think,  can  entertain  any  degree  of 

Son'"     ''"''  °'  ^'"°"-'^  ^-"''^•-H' «« 


u 


it 


iC 


NOTES.  23 

is  easily  proved  ■,  that  a  part  of  thue  Iambics,  of 
the  dialogue,  was  sung,  and  then  by  taking  it  for 
granted,  that  the  antients  could  not  possibly  have 
endured  so  barbarpus  a  eustorp,  as  the  mixture  of 
speech  and  singing  in  the  sain^  piece.  "  II  ne 
**  paroit  pas  qu  on  puisse  douter  que  ces  cq?2tiques 
"  ne  se  chantassent ;  mais  de  cela  mfeme  je  cj^ois 
"  pouvoir  conclurre,  que  tout  le  reste  se  chantoit, 
"  quoique  differemment;  car  le  bon  spiSy  et  ce 
que  les  anciens  nous  disent,  nous  conduit  k 
penser  que  leur  recitation  etoit  partput  de 
mf  me  nature,  et  qu'elle  ne  ae  bigarroit  point, 
"  tantdt  d'une  simple  declamation,  et  tant6t  d'un 
"  chant  musical^." 

By  the  same  presumptive  ipode  of  arguing,  the 
Abb6  might  also  have  proved,  ^  pr'mi,  that  the 
Greeks  could  not  possibly  have  been  guilty  of 
the  modern  barbarous  bigoi^rure  of  serious  and 
ludicrous,  in  their  Tragic  drama.  But  the  iSrst 
Greqk  Tragedy  he  had  opened  would  probably 
have  overturned  his  reasoning  \ 

A  thorough  discussion  of  all  the  passages  of 
antient  autiiors,  that  throw  any  light  upon  this 
question,  relative  to  the  dramatic  representations 
of  the   Greeks,   would  draw  me  much  too  far 

beyond 

*  The  30th  and  49th  of  Aristotle's  Harmonic  Prob, 
Sect.  19.  are,  alone,  sufficient  proofs  of  this  point. 

'  Mem.  de  I'Acad.  Roy,  des  Inscriptions,  &c.  tome  II, 

P-  343;  QCtavo. 

*  See  NOTE  33 — in  the  1''  vol. 

C4 


«4  NOTES, 

beyond  my  bounds.     I  must  content  myself  with 
pointing  out  (for  I  think  it  has  not  been  observed) 
the    stubborn   difficulty   which    this   passage    of 
Aristotle  appears  to  me  to  throw  in  the  way  of  the 
common  opinion   upon   this   subject;    and   with 
hazarding  a  mereXy  hypothetical  conjecture,  that, 
if,  as  Aristotle  seems  plainly  to  say,  some  part  of 
the  Greek  Tragedy  was  spoken,  like  our  Tragic 
declamation,  without  any  musical  accompaniment, 
it  was,  most  probably,   that  part  of  the  dialogue, 
which,  as  I  have  before  observed,  in  note  i'^,  is, 
in  every  Tragedy,  easily  distinguished  from  the 
rest,   by  its  being  carried  on  in  a  sort  of  quick 
repartee  of  verse  to  verse.     As,  in  this  part  of 
tlie  dialogue,  we  almost  constantly  find  the  Tragic 
tone  lowered  to  a  more  colloquial  pitch,  and  even 
approaching  frequently  to  the  jocular  and  bur- 
lesque, it  seems  reasonable  to  think,  that  here, 
ifmiywhere,  the  musical  accompaniment,  and  the 
elevation  of  lengthened  and  chantbg  tones,  were 
withdrawn,  and  common  conversation  left  to  com- 
pion  speech. 

But  what,  again,  are  we  to  understand  by-^ 
xai  7raAi>  in^x  $i(x,  /xtXaj  ^ —  Are  we  to  repeat 
^oi'fii/,  and  understand  Melody  alone,  without  the 
two  other  uVu(r^5STa,  Rhythm  and  Metre?  This 
cannot  ba  For  though  we  may  strip  the  Tragic 
language  of  melody  and  of  rlr  thm,  or,  in  other 
w  ords,  of  Alusic,  we  cannot  strip  it  of  metre. 
The  anticnts  mobt  certainly  did  not  admit  pro^e 

^nta 


NOTE    S.  1^ 

into  their  Tragedies  ;  and  as  little  can  we  conceive 
them  to  have  set  prose  to  Alusic  ". 

Dacier,  and  some  other  commentators,  under- . 
stand  by  ^fX®*  here.  Music,  including  rhythm. 
This  sense  of  the  word  is  certainly  warrantable ; 
but  it  can  hardly  be  the  sense  herfe  :  for,  surely,  an 
instance,  in  which  all  the  three  ri^ia-y^ocrx  were 
used,  (as  they  must  be,  if  m^tre  be  indispensable, 
and  [AiX(^  imply  rhythm  and  mdody,)  would  be 
but  a   strange  illustration    of  the  XOPIS   Wa^ji 

I  do  not  see  what  remains,  but,  that  we  take 
l*.t\Q^  here  in  its  most  restrained  sense,  as  distinct 
from  rhythm,  or  time,  and  synonymous  to  d^[xovK»; 
that  sense,  in  which  Aristotle  had  used  it  before,  in 
his  first  chapter ".    And  if  we  do  this,  we  must 

necessarily, 

°  The  reader  will  observe  that  Aristotle  is  expressly 
speaking  ot  the  yi^yo-fxara  of  Tragic  speech  or  language : 
hEyu  h  r)^u(rfX(vov  fjnv  AOFON  tov  fy^vrct  pu6fju}v,  &c. — fVords, 
therefore,  arp  equally  implied  in  all  these  7]^u(TfjuxTcc,  and, 
consequently,  Alusic  alone — i.e.  instrumental  Afusic,  is  here 
entirely  out  of  the  question. 

"  — puOfjLUi  Hai  MEAEl  KM  /txsTp,  answering  to  hh  Jjrst 
division,  pvOfjLu  km  >Joyu  Kai  APMONIAi. 

The  word  MEA02,  it  may  be  useful  to  observe,  occurs 
in  tliree  different  musical  senses,  i .  Sometimes,  as  here 
and  in  the  Greek  writers  on  Aifusicy  in  the  same  sense  as 
fi^fAovia — i.e.  melody,  abstracted  from  rhythm,  or  time. 
1  hus,  Aristides  Quintilianus,  p.  32,  and  see  p.  7,  his  ac- 
count of  (jisxui^iay  &c.  2.  Sometinies,  for  air,  or  measured 
pielody  ;  as  in  the  definition  of  Baccliius,  p.  19.  {Ed,  Metb,) 
2.  Jomeiimes  it  is  used  as  equivaieut  to  sqng,  including 

melody. 


/ 


%h  NOTES. 

neccwarily,  I  think,  understand,  that  some  parts 
of  the  dialogue  were  sung  without  rhythm: 
I  mean,  without  musical  rhythm,  or  time,  though 
certainly  not  without  that  poetical  or  prosodic 
rhythm,  by  which  in  reciting  verse,  and,  indeed, 
even  in  the  most  familiar  conversation,  the  syllabic 
quantity  must  have  been  relatively,  at  least,  ob- 
served, though  not,  I  presume,  with  the  inflexibility 
of  musical  measure,  nor  with  such  a  rigorous 
equality  of  long  to  long,  and  short  to  short,  as  is 
essential  to  the  execution  of  what  is  properly  called 
Music,  and  as  I  suppose  to  have  been  observed  in 
the  choral  odes  ^  Thus  the  dialogue  of  the  Greek 
Tragedy  will  appear  to  have  been  not  improperly 

compared 

melody,  rhythm,  and  words.  Thus  Plato — to  MEAOS 
Ik  r^iuv  In  cuyjcHfitvov ,  y^ya  ti,  km  a^ixovia^^  kou  puQfM.  Rep,  iii. 
p.  398.  D.  In  another  place,  however,  he  uses  it  in  the 
^rst  and  narrowest  sense,  for  mfre  melody :  MEA02  ^au 
KAI  pu9ixov  aviu  pvfjiaTuy.  De  Leg,  ii.  p.  669.— I'his  third, 
and  fullest  sense  of  the  word  is  what  A.  Quintil.  ex- 
presses  by  /u£A®-  ri>£iov.  p.  28. 

•  This  has  been  well  remarked  by  Dr.  Burney,  Hist,  of 
Mus.  vol.  i.  p.  161.  "  The  melody  of  antient  declama- 
*'  tion,'*  &c. — M.  Burette  goes  so  far  as  to  suppose,  that 
no  strict  rhythm  was  admitted  even  in  the  clioralpsLn  of  the 
antient  Tragedy.  His  authority  is  the  following  passage 
of  Plutarch's  Dial,  de  Mus, — tw  /x£v  x^yLCkTom  ytn\,  uai 
PT0MIli,  T^ayuOia  (uv  khTTu  kui  rvfji^fov  xexp-ntM.  p.  2084.. 
ed,  H.  S.  But  the  text  here  is  evidently  corrupt.  The 
name  of  some  particular  species  of  rhythm  is  probably 
omitted.  See  Mem,  de  VAcad^  des  Inscrip,  tome  xix. 
p.  427.  octavo. 


NOTES:  ^ 

compared  to  our  recitative;  differing  from  the 
chorus,  ajs  our  recitative  differs  from  the  airs,  both 
in  tije  absence  of  strict  time,  and  in  the  kind  of 
melody,  which  was  also,  as  mere  melody,  less 
musical  than  the  choral  melody,  and  more  imitative 
of  speech,  as  well  as  of  action  ^,  Whether  the 
monologues,  or  long  speeches— the  (axx^ai  /uo-ac, 
as  Plato  calls  them  *» — were  performed  in  the  same 
Mray,  as  the  rest, of  the  dialogue,  or,  as  it  has  been 
imagined,  were  distinguished  by  being  more  mea- 
sured and  musical,  is  a  point  not  easily  cleared  up. 
The  passacres  commonly  appealed  to  for  this 
purpose,  from  the  grammarians  Diomedes  and 
Donatus,  about  the  Caniica  of  the  Roman  Comedy, 
1  look  upon  as  a- very  frail  foundation  of  any  con- 
clusion with  respect  to  the  Greek  Tragedy  ^  The 
passage  of  Plutarch  above  quoted,  fwte  ^  furnishei) 
the  strongest  support  I  know  of  for  such  a  dis- 
tinction. For,  if  by  "  spoken  or  recited  to  an 
**  instrumental  accompaniment, ""  (ra  ^fv  [sc.  twit 
iVi3«wyJ  AEFESQAI  itqlooc  Tnu  Kpntr^u)  Plutarch 
meant,  as  I  think  he  must  mean,  sung  in  recitative, 
not  literally  spoken,  (for  how  could  that  admit  of  a 
musical  accompaniment  ?)  then,  aVierSa*, 'which  is 
'_ ^opposed 

P  See  Aristotle's  Prot^kins,  Sect.  19,  Pr^^/^.  xv.  and  xlix. 
<  De  Rep.  X.  />.  605. 

'  See  the  Abbe  Du  Bos,  Reflex,  sur  la  Poes.  &€.  vol.  iii. 
Sect.  1 1,  &€.—  This  writer's  explanation  of  the  passage  of 
Aristotle  that  we   have  been  considering,  is  worth  the 
reader's  inspection,  as  a  perfect  model  of  misrepresentation 
absurdity,  and  blundering.  ' 


;B  1 


««  NOTES. 

opposed  to  it,  must  of  course  imply,  not  mere 
singing  as  opposed  to  speech,  but  a  more  musical 
and  meamred  melody. 

NOTE    47. 

P.  117.     The  meaning  of  Melopoeia  is 

OBVIOUS  -  -  -, 

I  have  ventured  to  depart  from  the^  common 
interpretation,  by  understanding  the  word  (^uva/Ai;, 
here,  to  mean,  not  the  power,  and  effect,  of  the 
Melopoeia  itself,  but  the  power,  i.  e.  the  meaning 
of  the  term.  Aristotle  is  here,  as  usual,  explaining 
the  terms  he  had  made  use  of.  It  was  directly  to 
his  purpose  to  say,  as  a  reason  for  omitting  a  defi- 
nition in  this  instance,  that  the  meaning  of  the  word 
was  well  known;  but  not  at  all  to  his  purpose,  to 
say—*'  I  need  not  exj)lain  the  word,  because  the 
"  pmer  and  effect  of  the  thing  signified  by  it, 
**  (that  is,  of  Music,)  is  well  known." 

Dacier  is  amusing  here.  He  wonders  what 
could  induce  the  Greeks  to  make  Music  a  part  of 
their  drama ;  and  at  last,  '*  apres  bien  dcs  recher- 
''  ches"  he  discovers  one  princifial  cause  to  have 
teen  this — that  they  had  very  musical  cars ;  but 
he  does  not  discover  tlie  cause  of  his  own  wonder 
which,  in  all  probability,  was,  that  he  had  not. 


NOTES. 


29 


NOTE    48. 

P.  118-  Or  delivering  a  general  sen- 
timent- 

In  the  Rhetoric,  Aristotle  defines  y^w^uu  by 
nxioXx  ol7ro<pay(ng,  [Lib.  ii.  cap.  xxi.  p.  572.]  Thus 
below,  in  this  chapter,  for  xito(pxipovrai  ypufxriPy  hk 
Jirst  expression,  we  have,  xaSoAu  diro^xivovTM. — • 
This  has  been  loosely  and  inaccurately  rendered  in 
all  the  translations  I  have  seen,  except  those  of 
Castelvetro  and  Goulston. 

*roTE  4g. 

P.  118.  These  parts have  been  em- 
ployed BY  MOST  Poets. 

Locus,  as  the  critics  say,  conclamatus.  Time  is 
too  precious  to  be  wasted  in  the  support,  or  refu- 
tation, of  random  conjectures  upon  a  passage  of 
such  desperate  corruption. — How  can  ^K  oXiyoi, 
"  7Wt  aj'ezvi^  be  tortured  into,  "  all,^'  or,  *^  almost 
all?''  Yet  so  Dacier,  Batteux,  Goulston,  &c. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  fairly  translated,  "  not  a  few 
**  Poets  have  made  use  of  these  parts,"  how 
strangely  it  will  follow — ""^for  every  Tragedy  has 
**  them  all !" — And  how  is  the  «?  tWety,  to  be  ap- 
plied ?  to  jJx  IXiyoi,  or,  to  £iVf<ri  ? 

In  the  midst  of  these  ditticulties,  all  I  could  do 
was  tQ  make  my  version  consistent  with  itself; 

faithful 


9: 


3©  NOT   B    S. 

faithful  to  the  original,  I  could  not  make  it,  with* 
out  making  it  nonsensical. 

Those  comn)entators,  wlio  apply  the  w\  uirm  to 
the  word  uh(ri,  seem  favoured  by  ch,  xii.  where, 
speaking  of  the  same  essential  parts  of  Tragedy, 
Aristotle  says— ok  i^iv  as  EIl^U  Ja  ^^fuo-Soi. 


ri 


NOTE    50. 

P.  119.    The  supreme  good  itself  —  is 

ACTION,  NOT   QUALITY. 

See  Ethic,  Nicom.  I.  5,  7,  8.  ed.  JVilk.  &  Mag. 
Moral,  L  4.  p.  149,  150.  ed.  Duval. 

NOTE  51. 

P.  119.  The  Tragedies  of  most  modern 
Poets  have  this  defect. 

This  receives  illustration  from  what  Aristotle 
presently  after  says,  of  "  the  rhetorical  manner 
"  prevailing  in  the  Poets  of  his  time :"  01  «^f  yvp, 
fnTo^ixug.  cap.  vi :  and  from  his  observation,  at  the 
close  of  cap.  xxiv.  [Transl.  Part  III.  Sect.  6.] 
that  "  the  manners  and  sentiments  are  only  ob- 
''  scured  by  too  splendid  a  diction.'' 

What  he  has  here  said  of  the  recent  Tragedies 
of  his  time,  may  perhaps  be  said,  in  general,  of  our 
modem  Tragedies,  compared  witli  those  of  Shaks- 
peare.  The  truth,  I  believe,  is,  that  the  Tragedy 
of  a  refined  and  polished  age  will  always  have  less 


NOTES.  31 

3i9®^  than  that  of  ruder  times,  because  it  will  have 
more  dignity ;  more  of  that  uniform  and  level  ele- 
vation, which  excludes  strong  traits  of  character, 
and  the  simple,  unvarnished  delineation  of  the 
manners.  Indeed,  what  the  Greeks  denominated 
iJO^,  is  the  peculiar  province  of  Comedy ',  and  is 
seldom  to  be  found  in  Tragedy,  except  in  that 
stage  of  its  progress,  when  it  is  not  yet  thoroughly 
and  distinctly  separated  from  Comedy ;  from  the 
imitation  of  common  life,  and  natural  manners  ^ 
Such  are  the  Tragedies  of  Shakspeare  ;  and  such, 
as  I  have  before  ventured  to  suggest,  are  those  of 
Euripides  in  particular,  which,  in  proportion  as  they 
have  less  dignity,  have  more  n'S®*,  than  the  Tra- 
gedies of  Sophocles.  But  in  neither  of  them,  nor, 
probably,  even  in  those  very  Poets  here  censured 
by  Aristotle,  was  the  "  language  ^of  Poets,''  sub- 
stituted for  "  the  language  of  men  \"  as  it  is  almost 
constantly  in  the  French  Tragedy,  and,  too  often, 
in  our  own  Tragedies  of  the  French  school. 


•  Illud  (^d^)   Comcediay  hoc    (7r«fl^)    Tragcedia,  si- 
mile.— Quintil.  p.  302,  ed.  Gib, 

'**  —  ain^av,  says  Demetrius,  mm  uTroir^rovj  ro  >iB^. 
Sect.  28. — And  see  Long'mus,  Sect.  9,  where  he  very  justly 
calls  the  Odyssey,  xufxai^ia  n;  A5oMy8^fv>j. 

'  *'  Addison^"  says  Dr.  Johnson  in  his  admirable  pre- 
face to  Shakspeare,  '*  speaks  the  language  of  Poets,  ani 

"  Shakspeare,   of  men. Tlie  composition   refers  us 

«  only  to  the  writer ;  we  pronounce  the  name  of  Cato,  but 
'  *'  we  think  on  Addison  J* 


3* 


NOTES. 


P.   119.       POLYGNOTUS    EXCELS    IN    THE  EX-^ 
^RESSION  OF  THE  MANNERS. 

I  see  not  the  smallest  reason  for  the  substitution 
of  ccyx^uv,  for  ecyiz^<^,  which  is  the  reading,  we  are 
told,  of  all  the.  MSS.  What  Aristotle  had  said 
before  of  Polygnotus^  c«/?.  ii.— or*  k^hjtb^  intai^E— * 
seems  not  to  afford  the  slightest  ground  for  altera- 
tion here,  [See  Mr.  Winstanley's  ed,  p.  281.] 
Painters  are  compared  in  very  different  points  of 
view,  in  these  two  passages :  fhere^  as  imitating 
good  or  bad,  serious  or  ridiculous,  elevated  or  low, 
objects  :  here,  only  as  expressing,  or  not  expressing, 
manners.  It  was  directly  to  Aristotle's  purpose 
to  say,  that  Polygnotus  was  a  ''good  manner-- 
''  painter  \'  («VaO0^  ^^oyooL<^^)—iiQX  at  all  to  his 
purpose,  (besides  the  awkwardness  of  the  expres- 
sion itself,)  to  say,  that  he  was  ''  a  manner* 
'' painter^  of  good  men  r  [oiyx^uy  ylioy^oc(p(^). 

NOTE   53, 

P.  120.     Just  as  in  Painting,  &c. 

I  hope  I  shall  not  much  shock  even  the 
most  conscientious  adherents  to  the  established 
inaccuracy  '  and  authentic  blunders  of  antieqt 
manuscripts,  by  having  ventured  to  adopt  here 
the    transposition    first   proposed,    I    believe,   by 

Castelvetro. 


NOTES.  33 

Castelvetro  *.  I  can  only  desire  those  readers,  who 
may  be  alarmed  at  my  temerity,  to  read  the  passage — 

wa^awAij(r<o»    yoc^   Ip — x.  t.  aXA. — tO,  flxei/a,  —  first, 

where  it  stands  in  all  the  editions,  and  then,  where 
I  have  placed  it,  immediately  after  tlie  words — 
f;i^a(ra  ^i  fxuiov  xxt  frvfctciv  Tr^ocyfxATuy, — If  this  ex- 
periment alone  be  not  sufficient  to  convince  them 
of  the  propriety,  or,  rather,  the  necessity,  of  the 
transposition,  I  despair  of  the  success  of  any  argu- 
ments I  am  able  to  produce  in  the  support  of  it. 
To  me,  I  confess,  it  is  among  those  things  that  are 
too  evident  for  proof. 

NOTE  54.  ' 

P.  120.   Adventurers  in  Tragic  writing 

ARE  SOONER  ABLE,  &C. 

Aristotle  argues  here  upon  a  piinciple  rather 
rhetorical  and  popular,  than  philosophical — that, 
which  infers  superior  'W07^tk  fi^om  superior  difficulty 

and  ra?ity  : — to  ^aXsTruTi^oy  xat  G-irocviuiTi^ov,  /(Afi^oy, 

(sc*  ayMif,)  as  he  lays  it  down  in  his  Rhetoric, 
Hb,  i.  cap.  vii.  p.  529. 

Lord 

*  Poetica  (T Arhtotele,  &c  p.  142.     Ed  e  da  sapere,  chc 
di  soito  si  truovano  in  luogo  non  convcncvole  qucste  parole, 

vaqa'n'Ktfiaicv Ewwva.      Le    qKali  parole  debbono   seguitarc 

prossimanunte  dopo  w^eeyijunun/,  &c.  Heinsius,  too,  saw  the 
necessity  of  the  tran^poi^jtion,  but  appears  to  me  to  have, 
in  a  great  n^easure,  desiroyed  the  propriety  of  it,  by  in- 
serting the  passage,  not  immediately  after  Tr^oe/fxaTuv,  but 
.after  dvayfu^Kres,  in  the  next  ecutence.  See  his  note,  in 
Goulst  n*s  ed,  or  the  Ux.  ej.  1 780. 

VOL.  LU  O 


I  ft 


1: 
'^    ll- 

I  f.j. 


34  NOTES. 

Lord  Bacon,  in  his  Essay  On  Gardens,  uses  the 
same  argument,  and  almost  in  Aristotle's  words, 
with  respect  to  the  superiority  of  gardening  to 
architecture :  ''  A  man  shall  ever  see,  that  when 
"  ages  grow  to  civility  and  elegancy,  men  come  to 
"  build  stately  sooner  than  to  garden  finely  ;  as 
"  if  gardening  were  the  greater  perfection'' 

The  truth,  however,  of  the  fact  here  asserted  by 
Aristotle,  appears,  not  only  from  tli^  earlier  dra- 
matic Poets  of  every  nr  tion,  but  from  the  defects  of 
plots  in  general,  whether  Dramatic  or  Epic ;  and 
from  the  rarity  of  those  dramatic  fables,  for  which 
the  Poet  has  trusted  entirely  to  his  own  invention, 
without  recourse  to  history,  or  novels,  or  the  pro- 
ductions of  other  dramatists  *. — "  En  general,  il  y 
''  a  plus  de  pieces  bien  dialogu^cs,  que  de  pieces 
"  bien  conduites.  Le  G6nie  qui  dispose  les  in- 
**  cidens,  paroit  plus  rare  que  celui  qui  trouve  les 
"  vrais  discours.  Combien  de  belles  scenes  dans 
"  Moliere! — On  compte  ses  denouemens  Jieurcux, — 
"  On  seroit  tent6  de  croire  qu  une  drame  devroit 
*'  6tre  1  ouvrage  de  deux  hommes  de  g^nie,  Tun  qui 
"  arrangeat,  et  Tautre  qui  fit  parler."— Diderot, 
de  la  Poes.  Dram,  p.  288. 

NOTE   55. 
P.   120.      To  THIS  PART  ^ELONGS,  &C. 

Aristotle  is  not  here  defining  Aiayoioi,  as  his  ex- 
pression,  THTo  $t  E2TI,  seems,  at  first  view,   to 

imply : 

-— Tn     mil  _ 

f  See  Harris's  PhiloL  Jnq,  p,  160. 


NOTES.  35 

imply :  he  is  only  explaining  the  subservience  of 
the  sentiments  to  the  manners ;  he  is  shewing  why 
they  are  next  in  rank  and  importance  to  the  77ian- 
ners  ;  namely,  because  manners  or  characters,  are, 
in  great  part  at  least,  manifested  by  the  sentiments. 
Dacier's  note  here  is  good.  *'  Aristote  suit  ici 
"  Tordre  naturel.  Les  sentimens  sont  pour  les 
"  moeurs,  ce  que  les  moeurs  sont  {)oiir  Taction. 
"  Comme  un  Poete  tragique  ne  peut  bien  imiter 
"  une  action,  qu'en  employant  les  moeurs,  il  ne 
**  peut  non  plus  bien  marquer  les  moeurs,  que  par 
"  le  moyen  des  sentimens ;  &  par  consequent  les 
*'  sentimens  tiennent  le  troisieme  ran^  dans  la 
"  Tragedie." 

NOTE  56. 

P.  120.     Which,   in    the   dialogue,    de- 
pends ON  the  political  and  rhetorical 

ARTS. 

l^yo¥  Iriy, — I  have  not  seen  the  words,  Ivi  roov  Xoyuvy 
satisfactorily  explained.  I  cannot  agree  with  those 
commentators,  who  by  Xoyoi,  here,  -understand, 
oratory,  prose  eloquence,  as  opposed  to  Poetry : 
a  sense,  indeed,  very  common,  in  Aristotle  and 
other  writers ;  but  if  we  adopt  it  here,  how  fol- 
lows— o»  TAP  d^^ocioi  TToXtTixwc  EIIOIOTN  Xiyovrag? 
for  here,  Aristotle  evidently  speaks  of  Poets ;  not 
of  orators,  as  Dacier  renders  it.     The  passage, 

D  2  then, 


t€ 


i< 


it 


€€ 


36  NOTES. 

then,  fairly  translated,  would  stand  thus  : — "  which, 
(1.  e.  the  choice  of  proper  sentiments,)  in 
ORATORY,  is  the  business  of  the  pohtical  and 
rhetorical  aits :  for  the  antient  Tragic  Poets 
made  their  characters  speak  politically,"  &c. 
NothinfT  can  well  be  more  incoherent. 

Et*  rtov  Aovww,  means,  I  tliink, — in  the  speeches, 
discourse,  or  dialogue  part  of  the  drama,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  the  choral  or  lyric  part,  which 
had  nothing,  or  comparatively  nothing,  to  do  with 
ri^^  or  character,  and  in  \^  hich  the  Poet  w as,  of 
course,  to  draw  his  iiocvmct,  or  thoughts,  principally 
at  least,  from  different  sources;  not  from  the 
stores  of  civil  wisdom,  or  rhetorical  art,  but  from 
those  of  Religion,  Ethics,  Mythology,  and  Poetry. 
The  word  Xoyoi,  is  clearly  used  in  the  same  sense, 
in  a  passage  that   presently  follows : — <r»07r5^  ix, 

l-)(ji(ny    iifl^    hiQi    ru¥    AOFXIN  —  *'   some  of    the 

"  speeches,  or  the  dialogue.'' 

NOTE  57. 
P.  120-1.     For  the  antients  made  their 

CHARACTERS  SPEAK  IN  THE  «TYLE  0¥  POLI- 
TICAL AND  POPULAR  ELOQUENCE  ;  BUT  NOW, 
THE  RHETORICAL  MANNER  PREVAILS. 

*Ot  [xiy  yx^  a^;^aiw  IIOAITIKIIS  iiroisy  Xtyoyrag, 

61  ^i  rjy,  ftjTof ixwf . — So  Rhet,  lib.  ii.    cap.  xxii. 
p.  573,  nOAITIKIli  (roXAoyKTjUM — a  Civil  or  Ora- 
torical syllogism,  as  opposed  to  the  st7nct  dialectic 
4  syllogism : 


NOTES.  21 

syllogism  :  a  distinction  which  he  presently  after  ex- 
presses by,  ax^ij3fr£f 01/,  and  AIAAAKXITEPON,  o-uXAo- 
yi^fcrSa*  [ibid.]  And  thus,  here,  the  same  term, 
noXiTixu(,  is  used,  to  distinguish  the  popular,  and 
less  laboured,  though  more  solid,  eloquence  of  the 
Senate  or  the  Forum,  from  the  studied  and  decla- 
matory composition  of  the  professed  rhetoricians. 
A  similar  use  of  the  vvord  occurs  in^the  passage 
quoted  in  note  229,  from  the  Euagoras  of 
Isocrates,  where,  ivo^Atn  nOAITIKOIS,  is  plainly 
synonymous  with  oyo|tAa(r4  KTPIOI2:.  See  also  Dion. 
Ilalicarn.  De  Struct.  Orat.  p.  4.  ed.  Upton,  and 
Faber's  note. 

That  Aristotle,  however,  by  Politics  (u'TroXiTixrj), 
means  oidy,  as  Dacier  asserts,  ''  Tusage  commun, 
"  le  langage  ordinaire  des  peuples,''  cannot,  surely, 
be  admitted.  .  The  force  and  extent  of  the  term  is 
well  known*.  "  Civilis  scientia,"  says  Quin- 
'  tilian,  **  idem  quod  sapientia  est**."  It  com- 
prehended all  the  necessary  knowledge  of  the 
To^iTix®*,  the  vir  civilis,  the  public  man.  It 
included,  of  course,  eloquence,  or  the  facultv  of 
public  speaking,  but  that,  of  a  kind  very  different 
from  the  ''  umhratile  genus,''  as  Cicero  calls  it,  of 
the  rhetorical  schools  ^     What  Aristotle  says  of 

the 


*  See   Eth.   Nicom,  lib.  i.  cap.  ii.  and  iii.   and  Mag. 
Moral,  lib,  i.  cap,  \, 

^  Lib.  ii.  cap.  xv.  p.  106.  ed.  Gibs. 

*  Cic.  de  Or.  ii.  15  to  19.   where  he  traces  the  sepa- 
ration of  eloquince  from  phdosophy.     The  difference  of  the 

D  3  political 


i 


38  NOTES. 

t 

the  old  Tragic  Poets,  that  they  made  their 
personages  speak  like  such  a  man,  not  like  a  Rhe- 
torkian,  cannot  be  better  illustrated  than  by 
Quintilian's  character  of  Euripides.  *'  lUud  qui- 
dem  nemo  non  fateatur  necesse  est,  lis  qui  se  ad 
agendum  comparefit,  utiliorem  long^  Euripidem 
fore.     Namque   is,  et  in  sermone magis 


c< 


<c 


« 


ii 


a 


a 


(C 


accedit  oratorio  gencri,  et  sententiis  dcnsus ;  et 
in  iis  qua*  h.  sapicntibus  tradita  sjint,  penfe  ipsis 
par,  et  in  dicendo  ac  respondendo  cuilibet  eorum 
qui  fuerunt  ix  foro  diserti  comparandus'^ 
[lib.  X.  cap.  i.] 

That  Dacier,  with  so  precise  and  clear  an  ex- 
pression before  his  eyes,  as,  EnoIOTN  AiyovTa?, 
should  understand  this  of  the  antient  orators,  and 
roundly  pronounce  Victorius  to  be  mistaken  in 
applying  it  to  the  Poets,  seems  perfectly  unac- 
countable. 

I  do  not  sec  in  this  passage  any  foundation  for 
the  refinement  of  Castelvetro,  Dacier,  and  other 
commentators,  who  refer  the  Ivovrx  to  the  political 
science,  and  the  d^iMorrovrx  to  rhetoric.  The  word 
d^lAOTToyrx,  has,  I  think,  the  same  sense  as  in 
cap.  XV.  and  means,  such  sentiments,  or  thoughts, 
as,  being  adapted  to  the  person  speaking,  are  ex- 
pressive 

political  and  rhetorical  styles  may  be  well  illustrated, 
I  think,  by  a  comparison  of  the  style  of  Cicero,  (in  his 
Orations,)  with  that  of  Demosthenes :  for  on  this  subject, 
I  cannot  but  agree  with  the  remarks  of  Lord  Monboddo, 
Orig.  and  Prog,  of  Lang.  vol.  iii.  p.  1 84,  and  vol,  ii. 
Diss.  III. 


I 


NOTES.  39 

pressive  of  the  manners :  for  it  is  in  this  view,  as 
I  before  remarked,  that  Aristotle  is  here  considerins 
the  sentiments^  or  Aiako^a.  Tx  Ivoyjx,  as  Victorius 
has  observed,  is  equivalent  to  rx  Cttx^^ovtoc  ;  and 
it  was  clearly  the  business  of  rhetoric  (/JnTo^txii? 
i^yo¥,)  to  teach  both  the  iTra^^orrx  and  the  ei^[xer' 
rovrx.  See  Rhet.  lib.  ii.  cap.  xxii.  p.  573,  E.  and 
lib.  iii.  cap.'su.  p.  590,  D.  ed.  Duval. 

NOTE  58. 

P.  121.     There  are  speeches,  therefore, 

WHICH    are    WITHOUT    MANNERS AS    NOT 

CONTAINING,  &C. 

The  reading  1  have  followed  is,  I  think,  fully 
authorised,  by  MSS.  and  by  common  sense. — See 
Mr.  Winstanley's  note,  p.  282.  —  The  Abbe 
Batteux  has  given  the  passage  thus,  from  a  MS. 
(N*  2117,)  in  the  King  of  France's  library.    £$■* 

ii    »j6©^  l^lV  TO    TOi«TOV,   0   ^JjXoi  TIJV   Tr^OXlOKTiV,   OTTOIX    T<? 

ifiy'  hoTTi^  ax  iyji<ny  tf4^  hiot,  ruv  Xoyuv^  iv  oif 
UK  in  ivi>^oif  QTi  ir^oxi^iiTXi  fi  ^iMyn  0  Myuiv. 

The  common  reading  stands  thus  : — Er*  h  iJOS-* 

IAi¥  TO  TOiJfTOV,     0    ^TlAoi     TflV    V^tf«i^£(riV,    OTTOIX     Tl?     £r<V, 

f»  oig  «x  Ifi  ifiXovy  >I  TT^oxi^iiTXiy  vi  (ptvyn  o  Xiyuv' 
hotrt^  «x  ip^Krik  iJ9®^  ivioi  ruv  ^oycav. — Which  is  thus 

rendered  by  Mr.  Harris  :  "Manners  or  cha- 
"  UACTER  is  that  which  discovers  what  the 
^  DETERMINATION  [of  a  spcakcrj  xjcill  M,  in 
**  matters,  where  it  is  not    yet   manifest, 

D  4  **  whether 


40  NOTES. 

"  xvhether  he  chuses  to  do  a  things  or  to  avoid  it  *." 
Now  if  this  were  true,  I  do  not  see  how  there 
could  be  any  iJS^,  in  any  play,  after  the  first  dis- 
covery of  the  speaker  s  character.  In  the  Avare 
of  Moliere,  for  instance,  it  is  sufficiently  manifest 
from  the  very  first  scene  in  which  Harpagon 
appears,  what  his  avarice  will  lead  him  to  chuse  or 
to  avoid,  in  any  circumstance  of  the  drama.  Is 
there,  for  that  reason,  no  rfft©',  no  sentiments  that 
mark  his  character,  in  any  thing  he  says  during 
the  rest  of  the  play  ? — Nay,  more ;  according  to 
this  reading,  there  can  be  no  iffi^*  at  all  in  any 
part  of  that  drama  :  for  the  x^oatf  io-k  or  propensity 
of  the  Miser  is  completely  kuov\n  to  every  reader 
or  spectator  from  the  very  title  of  the  piece. 

I  know,  indeed,  that  Le  Bossu,  and  others,  have 
given  a  meaning  to  this  passage,  by  making 
Aristotle  say,  what  he  certainly  does  7iot  say — 
viz.  when  it  is  not  yet  manifest  *'  ejr  indicio  dicentisj* 
-what  the  will,  or  choice,  of  the^  speaker  is^  But 
if  the  comnjon  reading  were  rigiit,  M^e  might,  surely, 
expect  to  find  the  words,  »  Jt?  ux  in  hxov,  &c. 
subjoined  in  other  places  where  he  defines  the 

*  The  words — Try  ir^oM^iaiv  oTrota  T15  inv,  are  not, 
I  think,  rendered  with  Mr.  Harris's  usual  sccuracy, — 
"  what  the  determination  of  a  speaker  witi  he^  n^oai^s<rig, 
here,  is  not  particular  determifiationj  but  that  habitual  and 
general  propensity  which  is  the  cause  of  particular  deter- 
minations. 

*»  Heinsius  De  Trag.  Const,  cap.  xiv.  Lc  Bossu,  D* 
Poeme  Epique,livre  iv.  ch.  4. 


NOTES.  41 

it^.  Yet  we  have  nothing  like  it  in  cap.  xv. 
initio ;  nor  in  the  second  book  of  his  Rhetoric^ 
where  he  says  only,  u'J®*  ^  tx^o-t  Aoyo»,  Iv  otro^q  ^uXn 
i  ir^oxi^iviq ' :  nor  in  other  passages  of  the  same 
work,  relative  to  the  same  subject. 

Piccolomini's  translation  agrees  with  mine,  and 
is  expressed  with  his  usual  accuracy. — "  Ma  il 
*'  costume  nel  parlar'  i  quello,  il  quale  mostra 
"  fuora,  h  apparir  ik  il  volere,  e  I'elettion  di  chi 
**  parla.  Peroche  alcuni  parlari  si  truovano,  li 
*'  quali  non  hanno  costume ;  come  ch'  in  essi  non 
"  appaia,  e  non  si  manifesti,  quello,  che  6  elegga, 
"  6  fugga,  con  la  sua  volontA,  chi  parla." 

NOTE  59. 

P.  122.      A    BEGINNING,    IS    THAT,  &C. 

See  Harris,  PhiloL  Inf.  Part.  II.  ch,  v.  These 
definitions  must  be  understood  wholly  to  refer  to 
the  wants,  and  expectations,  of  the  spectator.  He 
mu^t  want  nothing  before  the  beginning,  nor  expect 
any  thing  after  the  end.  Nothing,  however,  is 
more  common  than  both  these  defects  ;  than  per- 
plexed beginnings,  and  unsatisfactory  conclusions. 
Henry  Fielding,  we  are  told,  used  "to execrate  the 
"  man  who  invented  fifth  acts  *."  The  inventor 
of  Jirst  acts  has  not  given  dramatic  Poets  much 
less  trouble.  Most  modern  plays  have,  I  think, 
more  or  less  of  this  intricacy  in  their  beginnings ; 

but 

I  Cap.  xxi.  p.  572.  E,       *  Harris,  Phil.  Inq.  p.  161. 


43t  NOTES. 

but  it  is  especially  the  case  with  Comedy.     It 
seems,  indeed,  by  no  means  easy  for  a  modern 
comic  writer,   of  whom   invention,    novelty,   va- 
riety of  incidents,  and  ingenuity  of  contrivance, 
are  required,  <?«>«*,  as  Aristotle  well  expresses  it, 
•Jo-Tf^  fiV  rnv  x"f  «j  Tui/  a'^p^^^__i,  e.  to  put  the  be-, 
ginning  fairly  into   the  spectators  hand^.     The 
spectator,  and  even  the  reader,  of  a  new  Comedy, 
is  generally  employed,  during  the  first  scenes,  in 
guessing   an   aenigma;  and  when,    at  length,  he 
comprehends  what  is  going  forward,  his  attention, 
interest,  and  sympathy,   are  disturbed   and   dis- 
tracted, by  looking  back,   to  understand  what  he 
should  have  understood  at  first.     Hence  the  ad- 
vantage which  the  Tragic  Poet,  from  the  noto- 
riety of  his  subjects,  generally  possesses  over  tlie 
Comic ;  and  which  is  so   pleasantly  described  in 
the  fragment  preserved  *by  Athenaeus  from  Anti- 
phanes  or  Aristophanes*,    that  I  shall   save  the 
reader  tlie  trouble  of  turning  to  it. 

-   -   -   Muxa^io'j  eg-iv  17   Tcocyu)Six 
Uo^1/}|JM  7CUTX  TTocvT'   ilys   TTDcarov  oi  Xoyoi 
ICtto  tuv  Qiurcjov  sitriv  eyvcjoio'Luvot 
n^iv  Koci  Tiv    eiTTStv,   cog  U7rcfjLvyi(roci  uovov 
Aet  rov  7roir}T%v,      Oili7r\sv  yuo  ccv  yi  fca,  \ 

TU  S     UXXU  T70LVT     \cDL(TlV 0   TTOCTm   AoCi'l^, 

MrjTrj^  loTCoc^f} — GvyocTB^sg,  TTXiSeg,  nveg' — 
T^  Treiced  iJt®^,  ti  TreTToiviKev' — ccv  ttccXiv 

EtTTft 

^  See  Note  40.    •  Athen.  lib.  vi.   See  Casaub.  in  loc. 


NOTES. 

EiTTvi  Tig  hXufiaimcty  Koct  ret  itotmct 
HoLVT  guSti;  BipviKiv — on  fidvtig  aTreKTOVB 
Trjv  fjLrjTB^a. —      ------ 


« 


HfMiv  ce  TocvT   «jc  Ig^iv'   clxXoc  ttocvto,  Set 

EVOSIV,   OVOfJLOLTOL  XXtVOC,   TOC  StUKfJI/^BVOe, 
UpOTSDOV,   TOC  VVV  TTOtaOVTUy  TfjV  KUTOCg'^0(pVlV^ 

Triv  e(r(3oXriv'   dv  Iv  ti  t^tijuv  Troc^ocXiTTYi 
X^BlJLfjg  Tig^  ri  (^biScl^v  Tig,  BKOV^nTBToci, 

DHAEI  ^6   TCX.VT     B^BfTTl  7C0CI   TEYKPIl*   TTOIBIV. 

Thus  rendered  by  Grotius  ** — 

-     -     -       Scilicet  Tragoedia 
Felix  pocma  est :  nam  principio  cognitum 
Argumentum  omne  spectatori  est,  antequam 
Verbum  hiscat  aliquis :  nomen  tantum  dicerc 
Poetae  satis  est.     Oedipum  pra^scripsero. 
Jam  reliqua  per  sc  ji orunt ;  pater  est  Laius, 
Jocasta  mater ;  turn  qui  nati  et  filiae. 
Quid  fecit,  quid  patietur.     Si  promiserit 
Alcmaeona  alius,  ipsi  dicent  pueruli, 
"  Hie  ille  est  qui  interfecit  matrem  insaniens." — 


At  nobis  ista  non  licent,  sed  omnia 

Sunt  invenienda,  nomina  imprimis  nova. 

Res  antegestse,  res  praesentes,  exitus, 

Initia.     Ex  illis  siqua  pars  defecerit, 

Exsibilatur  Phido,  sive  ille  est  Chremes; 

Ilia  alia  facere  Peleo  et  Teucro  licet. 

When 

*  Excerpta  ex  Trag,  et  Com.  Gracis,  p.  622. 


44  NOTES. 

When  the  middle  of  a  drama  is  not  sufficiently 
connected  with  wliat  precedes, — that  is,  in  Aris- 
totle's language,  when  it  is  not,  aJra  ^iT   *AXo, — 
a  new  plot  seems  to  begin  :  a  fault  not  uncommon 
in   double  and  complicatect  fables  **.     If,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  wants  the  /iait'  cxftyo  £t«^6v,  the  piece 
seems  finished   before  its  time.      The   Sampson 
Jgonistes  of  Milton,  according  to  Dr.  Johnson, 
is  deficient  in  both  requisites  of  a  true,  Aristotelic 
middle.     Its    "  intermediate  parts  have  neither 
*'  cause  nor  consequence,  neither  hasten  nor  retard 
"  the  catastrophe  ^^  The  criticism  appears  to  be 
just.     It  is  seldom,  however,  that  a  beginning,  a 
middle,  or  an  end,  is  defective  in  both  the  condi- 
tions   required.      A    beghming,    which,    strictly 
speaking,  did  tiot  naturally  require  any  thing  to 

follow    it,     {[AiT     fxiivo   trtfoif   Vi(pvxiy   £tvat,)   would 

put  even  the  most  attentive  spectator  into  the  situ- 
ation of  Shakspeares  drowsy  tinker: 

Sly.    A   goodly  matter,   surely. — Coynes  there 

any  mo7x  of'  it  ? 
Page.  My  Lord,  'tis  but  begun  «. 

The  most  usual  defects,  and  which,  I  suppose, 
Aristotle   had   principally  in  view,   are   those  of 

beginnings 

'  '  "  '  .  ■  ■  ■        I  infill..  I 

*  Qu'y  a-t-il  de  plus  adroit  que  la  maniere  dont  Te- 
rence a  entrelace  les  ajiiours  de  Pamphile  et  de  Charinus 
dans  I'Andrienne  I  Cepeadint  I'a-t-il  fait  sans  inconve- 
nient : — Au  comtnencement  du  second  actc,  ne  croiroit^ 
an  pas  oiircr  dans  unt  autre  piece  ?  Diderot,  De  la  Poes, 
Dtar.t.  p.  283. 

'  Life  of  Milton.  »  Taming  of  the  Shrew. 


N    9    T    E    S.  45 

beginnings  which  do  not  properly,  in  his  sense, 
begin^  and  of  endings  which  do  not  end.  The 
first  perplex  us,  by  supposing  something  to  have 
preceded,  without  clearly  telling  us  what;  the 
other  leave  us  dissatisfied,  by  disappointing  our 
natural  expectations  of  something  more  to  follow. 
Of  this  last  fault,  instances  may  be  found  in  abun- 
dance ;  particularly  in  the  conclusions  of  Shaks- 
peare**.  In  Plautus,  and  even  in  Terence^  we 
find  this  imperfection  supplied  by  a  very  simple 
and  clumsy  contrivance,  that,  of  informing  the 
audience  that  the  play  was  over,  and  telling  them 
in  what  manner  tliey  were  to  suppose  the  catas- 
trophe completed. 

Spectatores,  Fabula  hcec  est  acta :  vos  plausum 
date.  Piaut.  Mostel. 

Spectatores,  quod  futurum  est  i7itus^  hie  me- 

morabimus. 
Haec  Casina  hujusreperieturfiliaesse  feproxumo; 
Eaque  nubet  Euthynico  nostro  herili  filio. 

Id.  in  fine  Casina. 

Ne  eapectetis  dum  exeant  hue:  intus  despon- 

debitur ; 
Intus  transigetur,  si  quid  est  quod  restat. 

Ter.  And. 


^  See  Dr.  Johnson's  Preface  to  Shakspeare,  p.  16. » 
There  cannot  be  a  stronger  proof  of  Shakspeare's  hasl« 
in  the  conclusion  of  his  plays,  lljan  his  passing  over  in 
total  silence  the  interesting  character  of  old  Adam,  at  the 
end  of  ji%  you  like  it ;  a  defect  felt,  1  believe,  by  every 
spectator  and  every  reader  of  that  charming  comedy. 


46  NOTES. 

The  fault  opposite  to  this — that,  of  prolonging 
the  piece  beyond  the  point  of  satisfactory  conclu- 
sion— has  been  attributed  to  the  Oedipus  Tyrannus 
of  Sophocles.  The  criticism  is  tasteless,  on  every 
account  The  reader  may  see  it  well  confuted 
by  Brumoy.  But  one  of  his  answers  is  alone 
sufficient,  on  the  principles  of  Aristotle :  "  Lc 
*^  spectateur  en  eftet  seroitnl  content  s*il  ignoroit 
"  le  sort  de  Jocaste,  d'Oedipe,  et  ,de  sa  fa- 
•*  miller"  &c.*  '' Oedipus,"  says  Voltaire,  ''  is  fully 
"  acquainted  with  his  fate  at  the  end  of  the  fourth 
"  act  Voila  done  la  piece  Jinie^ ."^ — He  might 
have  learned  better  criticism  from  a  writer  of  far 
inferior  abilities.  **  II  faut  aussi  prendre  garde 
**  que  la  catastrophe  ach^ve  pleinement  le  Poeme 
**  dramatique;  cest  k  dire,  quil  ne  reste  rien 
^*  aprfe,  ou  de  ce  que  les  spectatcurs  doivent 
'^  sf  avoir,  ou  qu'ils  vueillent  entendre ;  car  s'ils 
"  ont  raison  de  demander.  Quest  devenu  quclque 
"  personnage  iJiteresse  dam  les  grandes  intrigues 
"  dii  Theatre^  ou  s'ils  ont  juste  sujet  de  »favoir, 
"  Quels  sont  les  sentimens  de  quelqun  dts  princi- 
"  paux  acteurs  aprh  le  dernier  ^venemcnt  qui 
^^  fait  cette  catastrophe^ — la  piece  nest  pasfiniCy 
"  il  y  manque  encore  un  dernier  trait '."     That 

is 


'  Theatre  des  Grecs,  i.  376, 

^  Critique  sur  POedipe  de  Sophocle, 

'  D'Aubignac,  Pratique  du  Theatre,  torn.  i.  p.  126. 

This  author,  though  neither  a  good  writer,  nor  a  deep 

4  scholar^ 


NOTES.  47 

is  to  say,  in  Aristotle^  language,  a  drama  so  con- 
cluded, (as  the  Oedipus  Tyrannus  would  be,  if  it 
ended  with  the  fourth  act,)  would  want  the  true 
TfAfUTfj,  or  ew^— that,  after  which,  axxo  Hit 
nE<^TKEN  o'vui. 

NOTE    60. 

P.  123.     Whether  it  be  an  animal,  &c. 

KKKot  Tooe  ys  cifjLou  (tb  (pctvoci  dv  ^bip,  'ttocvtoc 
Xoyov  'XlSriEP  ZflON  cuvBg-otvociy  (rufjuec  rt 
IxovToc  otVTov  ocvTfs'  ci^B  fjLifiTB  AKEOAAON  Bhoci 
^ifjTB  AnOTN,  «XXa  MEIA  tb  Ix^tv,  km  AKPA, 

Plato,  in  Pbadro,  p,  264,  ed.  Ser, 
NOTE   61. 

P.  123.    Beauty  consists  in  magnitude 

AND    ORDER. 

There  is  something  singular,  something,  at 
least,  not  quite  consonant  to  modern  ideas,  in  the 
great  stress  which  the  antients  appear  to  have  laid 
• upon 

scholar,  has  collected  in  this  book  a  good  deal  of  curious 
theatrical  erudition,  and  made  some  acute  and  judicious 
observations  on  the  rules  of  dramatic  writing.  He  was 
unfortunate  when  he  attempted  to  put  his  theory  into 
practice  by  writing  a  Tragedy.  «<  Je  S9ais  bon  grc/' 
said  the  great  Conde,  ''  a  I'Abbe  D'Aubignac  d'avoir 
"  suivi  les  regies  d'Aristote,  mais  je  ne  pardonne  pas  aux 
«  regies  d'Aristote,  d'avoir  fait  faire  une  si  mauvaisc 
'*  Tragedie  a  T Abbe  D^Aubignac,*' 


4l  NOTES. 

upon  size,  as  a  necessary  constituent  of  beauty 
in  the  human  form.  They  seem,  indeed,  to  have 
despised  every  thing  that  was  not  large ;  and  to 
have  estimated  beuuty,  not  by  measure  only,  but 
by  weight  also.  *'  Magnanimity,"  says  the  Phi- 
losopher in  his  Ethics,  "  consists  in  greatness  of 
"  soul,  as  beauty  also  consists  in  gr^eatJiess  of  body. 
"  Little  men  may  be  called  «rf»oi,  and  (ruju^fT^oi, 
"  pretty,  and  well-shaped,  but  not  KAAOI,  hand" 

9 

"  some,  or  beautiful^.'* 

That  magnitude  should  have  entered,  as  essen- 
tial, into  their  idea  of  a  handsome  man,  is  not 
surprising.  The  utility  of  strength,  and  the  con- 
nection between  strength  and  size,  is  sufficient  to 
account  for  tliis.  But  what  appears  most  singular 
is,  that  they  insist  no  less  upon  the  importance  of 
magnitude  to  femak  beauty. — 0HAEIX1N  h  d^im, 

o-w/xar®^  fjLBV,   xaAA^  x<X(    MErE0O2  \       lioMER 

seldom  omits  size  in  his  descriptions  of  this  kind. 

KxkXi}  t6  MEFAAH  t€,  tcou  ayhsLa  \^  aJJuia. 

Od.O.  416. 

Nor  let  it  be  objected,  that  this  praise  comes  from 
a  swine-herd ;  for  Eurymachus,  a  suitor,  and  a 
couitier,  compliments   Penelope,  by  telling  her, 

that 


•  Ethic.  Nicom,  lib.  iv.  cap.  3. 

^  Rhet»  i.  cap,  v.— Xenophon,  describing  Panthea,  says 

— ^iwryxf 'jr^w    fJtef,  rm  MErE0EI,    w«t«    ^i,    Tf 

*PaMHi,  &c.     Cyropad,  Uh.  v.  initk. 


NOTES.  49 

that  she  wa^  more  accomplished  i?i  mind,   hand- 
somer, and  LARGER,  than  other  women  : 
-      -      -      tTTBi  TrepiBcro'i  yvvociX,uv 
EiS^  T6,  MEFEeOi:  T6,  Ih  (p^Bvocg  Iv^ou  ll'(roi;. 

Od.  2.  248. 
And,  indeed,  when  Minerva,  that  Penelope 
might  fascinate  the  suitors,  anointed  her  with  the 
cosmetic  wash  of  Venus,  and  gave  a  supernatural 
heightening  to  all  her  charms,  at  the  same  timo 
that  she  made  her  skin  "  whiter  than  ivo?y,''  she 
made  her  also  ''  taller  and  stouter.'' 

X^aroci,  BUT  ocv  tv  Xot^iruiv  %ofloy  IfjLBpoBvroc' 
Koci   i^iv    MAKPOTEPHN    KAI    DASIONA 
Gtjkbv  ISecrGoci, 

Ibid,  190. 
Thus,  too,  of  the  daughters  of  Pandarus : 

Hfif  S   ecvTi^(nv  ttb^i  ttcktbuv  Sukb  yvvcctzuv 
EtS(^  xai  ^ivvTfiv,  MHKO2:   S'  Itto^"  A^TSf^ig 

"^y^^^  Od.  $.  6. 

When  Penelope,  in  the  beginning  of  the  twenty- 
first  book,  goes  to  fetch  the  key  of  the  repository, 
where  the  bow  of  Ulysses  was  kept.  Homer  de- 
scribes her  as  taking  hold  of  the  key  with  her 
"  stout  hand:'' 

'EiXbto  (?6  jcXfiiS"  BVKX[4.7reoc  XEIPI  nAXEIHi. 

Od  4^.  6. 
VOL.  II.  E  —which 


I' 


50  NOTES. 

— which  Ernestus,  vvlio  allows,  that,  "  marm 
"  crassd,  72on  bmh  conveiiit  femince-  pulchrce  et 
"  rcgince^^'  would  fain  soften  down  into  the  main 
potelee  of  the  French. 

QuintiHan  observes  of  Zeuxis,  who  drew  the 
heads  and  limbs  of  his  figures  very  large,  that, 
in  this,  he  followed  Homer,  "  cui  validissima 
*^  quceqiie  formay  etiam  in  fceminisy  placet  f  and, 
that  he  did  this,  "  id  ampUus  atqfie  augustius 
"  ratus^:''  and,  indeed,  these  ideas  of  the  antients 
relative  to  beauty,  both  male  and  female,  seem  to 
have  been  owing,  in  part,  at  least,  to  their  ideas 
of  that  majesty  and  dignity,  which  they  consi- 
dered as  essential  attributes  of  their  divinities, 
and  which  imply  superior  size  and  strength.  To 
tell  a  lady  that  she  was  taller  and  stouter  than 
most  of  her  sex,  was  a  great  compliment :  it  was 
comparing  her  to  a  goddess. 

It  seems,  then,  tliat  Shakspeare,  in  the  quarrel 
between  Helena  and  Hermia  in  his  Midsummer 
Nigkfs  Dream,  has,  without  knowing  it,  made 
Hermia  perfectly  classical  in  her  resentment,  and 
Lysander,  in  his  reproaches : 

Her.    Puppet!    Why  so? — Ay,  that   way 
goes  the  game. 
Now  I  perceive  that  she  hath  made  compare 
Between  om  statures;  she  hatli  urged  her  height , 
And  with  her  personage,  her  tall  personage. 

Her 


«  XII.  10. 


NOTES.  5x 

Her  height,  forsooth,  she  hath  prevailed  with  )iim. 


Her.  Little  again  ?— nothing  but  low   and 
little  ? 

Why  will  you  suffer  her  to  flout  me  thus  ? 
Let  me  come  to  her.  -  -  - 

Lys.  Get  you  gone,  you  dwarf, 
You  minimus  of  hind 'ring  knot-grass  made. 
You  bead,  you  acorn !  -  -  -         Jet  iii.  Scene  8. 

41' 

NOTE  62. 

P.   123.       No    VERY     MINUTE     ANIMAL    CAN 

BE     BEAUTIFUL NOR    ONE    OF    A    PROPI- 

CIOUS    SIZE. 

I  am   by  no  means   perfectly  satisfied  of  the 
integrity  of  this  passage;    but   no   better   com- 
ment can,  I  think,  be  given  upon  it,  as  it  stands, 
than  that  of  Beni.  —  "  Non  priora  [i.  e.  quee 
"  vald^  pusilla,]    quia  eorum  spectatio   [6euj^ix] 
momento  pen^  temporis  fiat,  ac  propterea  spec- 
tatio ipsa  confundatur;— quod  est,  tantd  celeri- 
*'  tate  comprehendantur  ac   vcluti  absorbeantur 
partes  omnes,  ut  non  liceat  partem  h  parte,  ut 
caput  k  thorace,  interaoscere,  atque  adeo  partes 
conferre  mutud,   symmetriamque  et  proportio- 
nem  agnoscere  et  astimare,— Non  poster iora, 
[1.  e.  valdfe  magna,]  cjuia,  h  contrario,  in  tain 
ingenti  nK)le  ac  magnitudine,  partium  multitudo 

•E  2  «*  cognitionem 


a 


it 


it 


(6 


ti 


it 


It 


it 


52  ^      N    O    T    E    S. 

*'  cpgnitionem  impediat,  quae  non  possit  simul  * 
"  [*/**]  lii»l>C'ri:  dam  tmm  spectatiu\una^  prop- 
"  ter  (Iktantiam  deperit  et  evancmt  [olx^rxi] 
"  cogriitio  alterhis]  it  a  tit  unum  et  totum  non 
"  appareat  animal''  [Benii  Comm,  i?i  Aristot. 
Poet.  p.  20^.1 

Tlie  reader  may,  after  this,  be  amused  with 
seeing  what  strange  work  Lord  Shattsbury  has 
made  with  this  passage  in  his  explatiqtoi^y  transla- 
tion »f  it.  Essay  on  the  freedom  of  ft  it  and 
Humour,  Part  IV.  Sect,  3. 

NOTE    6^. 

P.  123.     Easily   comprehended    by  the 

EYE,    &C, 

ETXTNOnTON  —  No  words  furnish  a  more 
striking  proof  of  the  richness,  compression,  force, 
and  convenience,  of  the  Greek  language,  than 
those  which  Aristotle  here  uses; — luVuyoTTToi/,  tu- 
/uvujixoyfUTov,  <ruk^TjX^.  The  reader  needs  only  see 
to  what  a  feeble  length  of  periphrastic  wire-draw- 
ing a  translator  is  reduced,  if  he  would  give  their 
full  value :  Easily  comprehended  by  the  eye, — 
'*  Que  fceil  puisse  comprendre  et  mesurer  aisement 
*'  et  tout  dun  coup,''  [Dacier.]  "  Qui  puisse 
"  ^tre  saisi  d'un  mhue  coup  d^oeil,''  [Batteux;  the 
most  compressed  of  all  Aristotle's  translators.] 
"  Un  tout  ensemble  oil  la  vue  ne  segare  point.'* 
[^Jlarmontel,  Poetique  Fr.  Pref] 

Of 


NOTES.  53 

Of  the  same  kind  are  the  words,  EvsTraycoXahrov 
— "  such  as  the  it nder standing  can  easily  follow 
"  and  keep  jip  with^ :"  ivava7rk£ur^, — of  a  period, 
"  that  does  not  put  one  out  of  breath  ^'' 


NOTE   64. 

P.  124.     If  a  hundred  Tragedies,  &c. 

The  supposition  oi  a  hundred  Treiged\cs  per- 
formed in  concurrence  seems  merely  to  be  a  sort 
of  hyperbolical  fing  at  the  known  intemperance 
of  the  Athenian  people  with  respect  to  theatrical 
exhibitions ;  and  Dacier  has  rightly,  I  think,  ac- 
counted for  this  "  exuberantia  orationis,"  as 
Victorius  calls  it  *. 

But  Dacier,  and  the  Abbe  Batteux  after  him, 
make  Aristotle's  expression  too  hyperbolical  for 
hyperbole  itself,  when  they  translate,  "  S'il  falloit 
'*  jouer  cent  Tragedies  en  un  jour,"  For  if  the 
Tragedies  were  only  half  an  hour  long,  and  played 
without  intermission,  they  would  have  required  a 
day  oi  fifty  hours.  We  must  understand,  surely, 
with  Beni,  "  Si  centum  Tragoediae,  verbi  gratis, 
"  totis  illis  spectaculorum  diebus  recitandae  pro- 
*'  ponerentur  •* ;"  which  will  still  leave  hyperbole 
etiough. 

Dacier. 


*  Rhet.  I.  ii.  p.  517.         b  Ibid,  III.  ix.  p.  §92. 
•  ""  Quis  enim  non  intelligit  banc  (i.e.  iHa,TOv"V^aryc^ia^) 
cxuberantiam  orationis  esse  ?     VicU  in  locum, 

•^  Comment,  p.  21J. 

E3 


r  * 

Ji 

If. 


54  NOTES. 

Dacier  is  also  mistaken,  I  believe,  in  concluding, 
from  what  Aristotle  says,  that  it  was  once  an  esta- 
blished  custom  with  the  Greeks  to  regulate  the 
length  of  Tragedies  by  the  clepsydra^  or  hour-glass. 
His  expression  seems  to  imply  at  Itast,  tliat  it  had 
been  rarely  practised,  if  it  does  not,  as  M.  Battcux 
thinks,  imply  some  doubt,  whether  it  had  been  done 

at  all : — ua-Tn^  iron  xa*  ocWon  $A2I.   - 

Thus  mucli,  however,  as  to  the  limited  length 
of  these  performances,  we  may  easily  conceive ; 
that  when,  to  gratify  the  immoderate  fondness  of 
the  Athenians  for  the  drama,  an  uncommon  num- 
ber of  Tragedies  were  exhibited  in  concurrence, 
and  the  contending  Poets  were  apt  to  encroach 
upon  the  patience  of  the  audience,  by  lengthening 
out  their  pieces  in  order  to  shew  off  themselves,  or 
their  actors  %  the  Lord  Chamberlain  of  these  exhi- 
bitions might  be  obliged,  in  compliance  with  the 
clamours  of  the  people,  to  confine  the  representation 
of  each  drama  to  sotne  limited  time. 

NOTE  65. 
P.  124.  A  Fable  is  not  one merely 

BECAUSE  THE  HeRO  OF  IT  IS  ONE. 

Mr.  Hume,  in  his  Essay  on  the  association  of 
ideas,  represents  this  passage  of  Aristotle  as  con- 
trary to  the  doctrine  he  there  lays  down,  and 
which  is  unquestionably  true— that  *'  in  all  pro- 

"  ductions, 

*  See  cap,  ix.  TransL  F\n  II.  Stxt.  7. 


NOTES.  55 

"  ductions,  as  well  as  in  the  Epic  and  Tragic,  a 
"  certain  unity  is  required,"  &c. — and,  "  that  the 
''  unity  of  action  which  is  to  be  found  in  biography 
"  or  history,  differs  from  that  of  Epic  Poetry,  not 
"  in  kind,  but  in  degree."  I  see  here  no  contra- 
riety at  all.  Aristotle  certainly  did  not  mean 
to  say,  that  a  biographical  Poem,  if  I  may  so  term 
it,  (a  Poem  Trf^i  Iva,)  has  no  unity,  7io  relation  of 
cause  and  effect,  &c.  to  connect  the  incidents  ; 
but  only,  that  it  has  not  that  degree  of  unity, 
which  is  requisite  for  the  purpose  of  Tragic,  or 
even  Epic,  Poetry.  Mr.  Hume  himself  allows,  that 
Poetry  **  requires  a  stricter  and  closer  unity  in  the 
fable;"  and  this  is  all  that  Aristotle  appears  to 
mean.  The  persons  censured  by  him  for  con- 
cluding, that,  "  because  Hercules  was  one,  so  also 
'*  must  be  the  fable,  of  which  he  was  the  subject," 
were  right  enough,  as  philosophers,  but  as  poets, 
certainly  wrong. 

This  chapter,  in  which  Aristotle  considers  so 
particularly  the  unity  of  fable,  as  distinct  from  its 
totality,  led  me  once  to  think  it  probable,  that  the 
word  fj.iag  was  originally  in  the  definition  of  Tra- 
gedy, cap.  vi.  as  we  find  it  afterwards  in  cap,  xxiii. — 
vri^i  MIAN  TT^a^iv  oA»k  xa«  nXuocv,  But  perhaps 
the  supposition  is  unnecessary,  and  unity  may  be 
sufficiently  implied  in  the  words  nXuocg  xai  Ixnq : 
'OAOTHTOr,  as  he  elsewhere  says,  'ENOTHT02 
TIN02  'orZHZ.     Metaph.  lib,  v.  cap.  26. 


E4 


56 


NOTES. 


NOTE    66. 

p.  125.     Either  from  art,  or  genius. 
Hto*  ^ix  TBx^r.v,  H  AlA  ^TXIN. — It  appears  from 
this,  as  well  as  from  other  passages  of  Aristotle's 
treatise,  that  in  the  midst  of  all  the  coldness  of 
philosophical  investigation  and  analysis,  he  never 
lost  sight  of  the  difference  between  that  sponta- 
neous operation  of  genius  and  feeling  in  the  Poet, 
which  produces  poetic  beauty,  and  the  slow  and 
cautious  process  of  calm  examination  and  inquiry 
m  the  CJritic,  whose  business  it  is  to  discover  it 
principles.     It   is  not  every  philosophical   critic 
that  avoids  this  error.     Notliing  is  more  common, 
than  to  suppose  that  to  have  been  produced  by  art 
and  reflection,  about  xvhich,  when  produced,  art 
and   reflection  have  been  employed  *.     Thus  lan- 
guages, we  are   told,  must  have   been   originally 
formed  by  art,  because  they  cannot  be  analysed 
without  art:  Grammarians  and  Philosophers  must 
have   formed     language,    because    language   has 
formed  Grammarians  and  Philosophers. 

note  67. 
P.  1 25.  But  he  co:aiPREHENDED  those  only 

•which   HAVE  relation    TO  ONE  ACTION,  &C. 

OJuo-o-fiav    yok^  -rroiuifj  ax    i^^o^f](^£y   ATroLyjo,   Ua,  auVw 
rxiViW — AAA*  *A    TTi^i   fciak  TT^aJiv,  oiatv    XiyofAtv   my 

*  See  Liss.  1.  vol.  i.  p.  8.  nou  \ 


NOTES.  57 

O^vtTtruccv,   2YNE2TH2AN.      So   the  text   stands. 

"  Non  cecinit  omnia sed  quce  circa  unam 

"  solam  actionem,  qualem  Odysseam  dicimus,  con- 
"  stiterunt.'"  [Goulston.]  Victorius  reads,  AAAA, 
and  STNEITHXEN ;  but  does  injustice,  I  think, 
to  his  own  reading,  by  his  construction  and  his 
version:  wi^i  fxiav  n^x^iv — (r\iviiri\(Tiv \  ''  circa  unam 
''^actionem  — MA^HiT.''  This  is,  surely,  very 
harsh.     I  should  punctuate,  and  translate,  thus  :— 

aAAa    ns^i  fMiuv    n^a.^iy^   liav   Xsyofxiv,   tiji;   0^\j(r(rnay 
.     (Tvyirmiy'    ofxom;  is   xa*    mv    IXia^x.    [sc.    (ruyirtio-fy]. 

*'  Sed  circa  unam  actionem,  qualem  dicimus,  Odys- 
*'  seam  constituit ;  pariterque  Iliadem:'--''  But  he 
"  planned  his  Odyssey,  as  he  also  did  his  Iliad, 
.  ''  upon  an  action,  that  is  one,  in  the  sense  here 
"  explained."— And  that  this  is  the  true  readincr, 
and  the  true  sense,  of  the  passage,  I  was  once  tho- 
roughly persuaded.  The  construction  of  tlie  whole 
is,  thus,  clear  and  natural.  The  circumstance  of 
the  plural  verb  (rui/ir^<rav  with  the  plural  neuter,  a, 
is  avoided;  and  the  word  (rui/fr»i(r£v  retains  its 
proper  and  usual  sense,  as  applied,  throughout,  by 
Aristotle,  to  the  composition,  or  construction,  of  the 
rable.  So,  cap.  ix.  (rur»i<rakTif  tov  juuSoi/.  c<7/).  xvii. 
and  xxiu. — raf  ^uSa?  (Tui/ira^ai — et  passim.  I  will 
not,  however,  dissemble  what  is  against  me.  The 
reading  dxx'  «,  besides  its  support  from  MSS. 
answers  better  to  the  aVavra  oVa,  which  precedes : 

oux    jVei>j(r4v   AIIANTA   oVa  auVw  <r\)yiZn AAA*  *A 

»«f  *  /A.  w.  8cc.    But,  if  «M'  a  be  retained,  the  pas- 
sage, 


58  NOTES. 

sage,  I  think,  should  stand  thus  :— aAX'  d  Tnpi  fxiocif 

TT^a^iv,  [sc.  sr*,]  o*av  Xiyoiutv  rny  0^u<r<ruav,  2TNE2- 

TH2EN  *.  According  to  the  construction  of  Pic- 
colomini : — quelle  cose  accolse,  ch'  al  corpo  d  una 
attione,  la  qual  chiamiamo  Odissea,  servissero  : — 
and  the  Abb6  Batteux — **  II  a  rapproch6  tout  ce 
qui  tenoit  k  une  seule  action." — (ruvtrn(rev  «  ^i^* 
fA,iocv  TT^ocJ^iv :  i.  e.  composed  his  fable  of  those  cir- 
cumstances only,  which  relate  to  one  action.  Thus, 
immediately  after — rx   MEPH  DTNIZTANAI   rwy 

Unwilling  to  make  alterations  that  do  not  appear 
absolutely  necessary,  I  have  followed  this  last 
reading;  though  with  some  remaining  partiality  to 
my  first  conjecture.  That  the  sense  would  be 
clearer,  and  the  construction  less  elliptical  and  em- 
barrassed, is  certain.     But  I  am  afraid  this  is  but 

a  questionable 

*  I  cannot  reconcile  the  commentary  of  Victorius  on 
this  passage  with  his  text  and  his  version.  His  text  stands 
thus:  a»a.  Trt^i  fjuav  T^aiiv,  oiaof  XsyofASv  njv  O^ua-a-Biav, 
vvnTuvrtv,  His  version  is — "  Verum  circa  unam  actionem, 
**  qualem  dicimus  Odysseam  mansit,** — But,  in  his  re- 
marks, he  translates  exactly  as  if  he  had  read  and  under- 
stood the  passage  in  the  way  here  proposed.  "  Verum 
"  qu^  circa  unam  actionem,  qualem  Odysseam  vocamus, 
**  consiituit.'' — And,  **  Qu^e  circa  unam,  autcm,  actionem 
coagmentasie  inquit  Homerum.*'— Again  —  "  Quare 
vere  dici  potest,  ipsum  complexum  fuisse,  qua  circa  illam 
actionem^''  Nor  does  he  give,  in  his  commentary,  any 
other  version,  or  explanation,  or  mention  a  word  about 
the  change  of  «M*  a  into  oMa,  which  he  had  adopted  in 
his  text. 


4( 


li 


«( 


NOTES. 


59 


a  questionable  proof  of  corruption  in  the  writings 
of  Aristotle. 

NOTE  68. 

P.  126.     The  whole  avill  be  destroyed, 

OR  CHANGED. 

Destroyed,  if  any  part  be  taken  away,  (a>a*^a. 
/x£ya)— disturbed  or  changed,  if  it  be  transposed 
([xiTa,Tiii[xsyii).     In  the  first  case  it  will  be  no  lontrer 
a  whole ;  in  the  last,  not  the  same  whole.     This 
seems  the   meaning,    as  it  is  well  rendered  by 
M.  Batteux  :  <'  Que  les  parties  en  soient  tellement 
''  liees  entre   elles,  qu'unc  seule  transpos^e,  ou 
''  retranchee,  ce  ne  soil  plus  un  tout,  ou  le  m6me 
"  tout." — But  I  cannot  think  ^ioc(ps^i<rioci  right.     It 
is  rendered  by  Goulston,   "  diversum  reddatur,  et 
"  moveatur,  totum."  So  Piccolomini,  "  flf/t?^r^o  — - 
"  e  mutato,"  &c.     But,  besides  the  manifest  tau- 
tology, I  doubt  whetlier  there  be  any  good  authority 
for  this  sense  of  the  verb  ^ioc<piptcr9oci — i.  e.  to  be 
made  different,  or  changed.     At  least  I  have  not 
found  any  instance  of  it  in  Aristotle's  writings.     If 
we  retain  (Tiaf  i^£(r6a*,  it  must,  I  think,  be  taken  in 
the  sense  of  discerpi,  distrahi,  &c.     But  I   am 
almost  persuaded,  that  Aristotle  wrote  AIA<^0EI- 
PE20AI,  spoiled,  or  destroyed.     So  in  his  Topics, 
<&©ElPEieAI    TO   'OAON.   ml.  i.  p.  258.  K  cd. 
Duval. 


6o 


NOTES. 


NOTES. 


6i 


NOTE    69. 

P.  127.      Possible,    according    to    pro- 
bable, OR  NECESSARY,  CONSEQUENCE. 

Compare  cap.  XV.  X^n  $i  xa*  Iv  rot;  »f9i<rty.  x.T.aA. — 

[Transl.  Part  II.  Sect.  15.  p.  144*.]  The  expres- 
sion, ^vyotra,  xoltx rodyxyxotioy,  **  possible ac- 

"  cording  to  necessity,"  appears  strange  at  the  first 
glance:  but  in  fiction,  events  mayibe  supposed  to 
happen,  as  in  real  life  they  do  happen,  not  only 
probably,  but  necessarily ;  that  is,  not  only  as  they 
were  likely  to  happen,  but  as,  morally  speaking, 
they  could  not  but  happen.—"  Puisque  la  fonction 
"  du  vraisemblable  dans  la  Tragedie,  est  d  em- 
''  p6cher  Tesprit  de  s  appercevoir  de  la  feinte,  le 
"  vraisemblable  qui  le  trompe  le  mieux  est  le  plus 
"  parfait,  et  c  est  celui  qui  devient  necessaire.   Un 
''  caractere  etant  suppost,  il  y  a  des  effets  qu'il  doit 
"  necessairement  produire,  et  d  autres  qu'il  peut 
"  produire,  ou  ne  produire  pas."     Again  — "  La 
''  perfection  est  de  faire  agir  les  personnages,  de 
"  maniere  qu'ils  nayent  pas  pu  agir  autrement, 
*'  leur  caractere  suppos^,"  &c.     Thus  Fontenelle, 
in  his  excellent  Reflexions  sur  la  Poetigue ;  in 
several  parts  of  which,  that  clear  and  philosophical 
writer  has,  I  believe  without  any  such  intention, 
coincided  vyith,   and  illustrated,   the  positions  of 
Aristotle.— See  particularly,  S^ct.  58,  to  65,  in- 
clusively. 


•  Vol.  i.  of  this  Edit. 


NOTE   70. 

Pi  127.       A  SPECIES  OF  HISTORY — . 

'Iro^tx  Til — "  a  sort  of  history."  It  is  sin- 
gular,  that  almost  all  the  translators  should  have 
neglected  a  word  so  important  as  the  pronoun  is 
in  this  passage.  May  we  not  infer  from  this  ex- 
pression, that  if  Aristotle  had  been  asked,  whether 
an  Epic  imitation  in  prose  would  be  a  Poem,  or 
not,  he  would  have  allowed  it  to  be,  7roi»)/xa  TI, 
a  ki?7d  of  Poem,  as  having  the  essence  of  Poetry, 
i?iventio7i  and  imitation?  See  note  5.  p.  232,  &c. 
of  the  1  st  volume. 

NOTE  71. 

P.  127.  A  MORE  EXCELLENT  THING  THAN 
HISTORY. 

l.int$xiori^ov.  It  means  no  more  than,  in  plain 
English,  a  better  thing.  The  word  occurs  fre- 
quently in  Aristotle's  works,  in  this  general  sense. 

So,  Rhet,  I.  vii.  p.  528,  B.  xa*  iv  a»  imrrif^M 
xaXAi«f  n  cva^ocioTi^xi,  xa*  rot  7r^ecy[xxTX  nocWibi  xa* 
<r7r«^aioT£^«.      And,  ibid.  I.  ix.   p.  531,  E.      Ka*  at 

rm  <pM(rit.   crTrx^xioTg^uy  (superior  by  nature)  d^iTXk 

xxXXisg,  xai  ra  i^yx'  oioy  dyS^^   [sc.  crinsaaioTs^xi  «» 

ftfixat,  &c.]  ^  yvyxix^. — See,  also,  Ethic.  Nicom, 

lib,  VI.    cap.  Vll.    p.  78,    C.    droTToy    yxo     t\    rtf     rriy 

iTTirnfinv    TroXinxriy  SIIOTAAIOTATHN    olsrxi 

fii^a»,  il   fxn  TO   APIXTON  ruy   iv  rca  xoa-fAu  dyi^uTxr^ 

Dacier 


}4 


62  NOTES. 

Dacier  translates  the  word,  "  7norale;'  Batteux, 
"  instructive ;"  but  this  is  rather  giving  the  reason 
xvhjj  it  is  (TzjHtxioTs^ou,  or,  a  superior  thinw. 

NOTE  72. 

P.  127.       Is  NOT,    LIKE  THE    IamBIC  PoETS 
PARTICULAR  AND  PERSONAL. 

la^poTT-otoi.— Strictly,  the  writers  of  the  ^oyoi  or 
satirical  invectives  that  preceded  Comedy.  [See 
cap.  iv.  TransL  Part  I.  Sect,  6.]  But  I  believe 
Aristotle  meant  here  to  include,  at  least,  the  au- 
tliors  of  the  first  rude  Comedy,  "  of  the  Iambic 
''fmnn—"  tuc  la^pixi,?  *7£a?.  See  cap.  v.  Transl 
Part  I.  Sect.  8. 

It  appears,  that  the  Poem  called  U^^^,  what- 
ever it  was,  was  represented,  or  acted,  as  well  as 
Tragedy  and  the  Epic :  for,  in  his  seventh  book 
Dt  Rep.  cap.  xvii.  the  philosopher  forbids  boys  to 
be  spectators  of  Iambi  and  Comedies : — tk?  h 
vf«Tf^8?  8T  lAMBHN,  in  xufAtJioc^  GEATAS  vofAO- 
^irfiriO¥,  TTfiv  n — x.r.dx.  p.  448,  E. 

NOTE    73. 

P.  128.  What  has  never  actually  hap- 
pened, WE  ARE  NOT  APT  TO  REGARD  AS 
POSSIBLE. 

This  must  be  restiicted  to  those  extraordinary 
actions  and  events,  of  public  and  elevated  per- 
sonages,   which    usually   make    the    subject    of 
5     '  Tragedy. 


NOTES.  63 

Tragedy.     The  best  comment  I  have  seen,   or 
that,  I  think,  can  be  given,  on  this  passage,  is  that 
of  Piccolomini ;  but  it  is  so  long,  that  I  can  only 
refer  to  it  \     We  have,  however,  the  substance  of 
it  in  the  following  observation  of  Brumov. — '*  La 
**  Tragedie  ne  s  est  point  sous-divis^e"  (as  Comedy, 
he  observes,  had  been,)   ''  en  Tragedie  reelle,  et 
Tragedie  de  pure  imagination.    Je  crois  en  trou- 
ver  la  raison  dans  la  nature  de  lesprit  humain. 
II  n  y  a  que  la  vraisemblance  dont  il  puisse 
"  ^tre  touch^.     Or  il  n  est  pas  vraisemblable  qua 
des  faits  aussi  grands  que  ceux  de  la  Tracxedie, 
des  faits  qui  n  arrivent  que  dans  les  maisons  des 
rois,  ou  dans  le  sein  des  e?npires,  soient  abso- 
lument   inconnus.     Si   done  le  Poete  invente 
tout   son   sujet,  jusq    aux   noms,    Tesprit   du 
spectateur  se  revolte ;  tout  lui  paroit  incroyable 
et  la  piece  manque  son  effet,  faute  de  vrai- 
semblance.      Mais    comme    la   Comedie    ne 
touche  que  la  vie  commune  et  ses  ridicules,  le 
spectateur  peut  supposer  et  suppose  en  effet 
en  se  laissant  aller  k  Tenchantement  du  spec- 
tacle, que  le  sujet  qu  on  lui  presente  est  un  fait 
r^el,  quoiqu'  il  ne  le  connoisse  pas.     linen 
"  seroit  pas  de  mhne,  si  le  sujet  comique  avoit  du 
**  vieroeilleua;^*' 


a 


it 


ti 


a 


it 


il 


<( 


a 


<( 


iC 


ti 


C( 


(( 


<( 


ii 


iC 


*  Annotationiy  Sec.  p,  141,  &c. 

*  Theatre  des  Grecs,  i.  />.  207. 


64 


NOTES. 


NOTE    74. 

P.  128.     A   Poet   should   be  a  Poet  or 
Maker  of  fables,  rather  than  of  verses. 

So  Plato,  almost  in  the  same  words  ^ — iwona-ocg 

MreOTX,    a  AX'   «    AOTOri.—  Phadon,  p.  61, 
ed.  Serr. 

NOTE    75. 

P.  128-9.  N^^  I^  HE  THE  LESS  A  PoET, 
THOUGH  THE  INCIDENTS  OF  HIS  FABLE  SHOULD 
CHANCE  TO  BE  SUCH  AS  HAVE  REALLY  HAP- 
PENED,   &C. 

The  original,  as  it  stands,  (for  I  doubt  of  its 
integrity,)  is  very  ambiguous  and  obscure.  The 
sense  I  wished  to  give  it,  is  this  :  "  Nor  will  he 
"  be  the  less  a  Poet,  though  he  should  found  his 
"  Poem  upon  fact :  for  nothing  hinders,  but  that 
"  some  real  events  may  be  such,''  as  to  admit  of 
"  Poetic  probability ;  and  he  who  gives  them 
"  this  probability,  and  makes  them  such,  as 
"  Poetry  requires,  is  so  far  entitled  to  the  name 
^'  of  Poefy  or  Inventor.^' 

And  thus,  indeed,  the  passage  is  explained  by 
Robortelli  and  some  other  commentators:  and 
Casaubon  seems  to  have  so  understood  it ;  for, 

quoting  the  words   x*  «v   a^«   (ru/txC«   yivofAtvx   vomVf 

x.T.«x. — he  says,  *'  ad  ea  solium  dramata  refe- 

**  rendum, 


c< 


NOTES.  65 

rendum,  quorum  hypothesis  ab  historic  est;  ut 
"  Persarum  .Eschyli :  fabulae  ver6  totius  a-vp^stng 
"  ab  ingenio  Poetae'."  I  do  not,  however,  see 
how  this  sense  can  be  fairly  extracted  from  the 
words,  as  they  now  stand.  That  which  I  have 
given  in  my  translation,  and  which  was  first  sug- 
gested to  me  by  the  word  (ru^;3w.  I  was  afterwards 
glad  to  find  supported  by  the  opinion  of  Vic- 
tonus. 

The  expression~ai/  STMBHi  ysvofxim  iroinv, 

"  if  he  should  happen^'  &c.  is  very  strong,  and 
hardly  applicable  to  a  Poet  chimng  a  true  story 
for  the  outline  of  his  fable.     It  indicates  acci- 
dental  coincidence  with  truth.     The  word   f^a«, 
also,  is  on  the  same  side :— "  may  fo,"  does   not 
suit  the  sense  above  given,  which  requires,   "  may 
'*  become" — may  be  made  such  by  the  Poet ;  not, 
"  may  be  such,"  in  themselves,  which  is  the  ob- 
vious meaning  of  Tojaura  EINAI.     Farther;  Aris- 
totle has  just  told  us,  th?ii  probability  is  the  Poet's 
province,  and  yet,  at  the  same  time,   that  Trage- 
dies were  usually  founded,  and  should,  in  general 
be  founded,  on  historical  foct.     Now  it  would, 
surely,  be  rather  strange,  after  all  this,   to  say, 
"  nothing  hindc7-s,  but  that  some  real  events  may 
"  be  made   to   hare   poetic   probability  :"—«Vfj^ 

X.  T.  aA. 

But, 


*  De  Satyricd,  &c,  p.  345. 
VOL.  ir.  F 


66  NOTES. 

But,  to  the  interpretation  which  I  have  preferred, 
these  expressions  are  all  exactly  suitable,  and  thq 
meaning  and  connection  of  the  whole  seems  to  be 
this: — Aristotle  had  been  opposing  Poetry  to 
fact:  he  had  said  expressly,  that  the  yfvo/xfi/* 
were  the  peculiar  province  of  the  historian ;  the 
iiA  dy  ygyoiro^  and  the  flx^,  of  the  Poet.  An 
objector,  misapprehending,  or  misrepresenting, 
his  meaning,  might  have  urged — '*  the  incidents 
"  of  tliis  or  that  Poet  have  actually  happened  ; 
"  they  are  yivo/x«ya ;  and  therefore,  according  to 
"  your  own  doctrine,  not  proper  for  Poetry,  nor 
"  the  work  of  a  Poet,'* — To  this  Aristotle  an- 
swers, that,  though  the  object  of  the  Poet  be  not 
truth,  yet  his  invented  probabilities  may  coincide 
with  truth :  and  real  events,  even  of  the  Tragic 
and  extraordinary  kind,  mai/  have  happened  as 
probably  and  naturally  as  he  has  supposed  them 
to  happen.  He  is  still,  therefore,  no  less  a  Poet ; 
not  only  as  having  actually  invented  the  incidents, 
but  as  having  invented  them  with  true  Poetic  pro- 
bability.— And  thus  Victorius  : — "  Non  omnes 
"  eos — qui  fortuitd  incidant  in  res  quae  exitum 
"  jam  habuerint,  in  culpii  esse ;  quia  fieri  possit, 
"  ut  res  aliquae  factcBy  ita  lactae  sint,  ut  verisi- 
"  mile  sit  illas  factas  esse ;  et  esse  denique  ejus- 
"  modi,  ut  effici  potuerint;  quo  nomine  (inquit,) 
ille  Poeta  eorum  aliquo  modo  est:  officium 
enim  Poetae  est,  verisiuiile  sectari,  et  ea  qu» 
"  effici  possunt  sumere :  quod  in  illis  rebus  illo 

"  modo 


<c 


C( 


NOTES.  67 

**  modo  factis  non  desideratur.  Retinet  igitur, 
"  h^c  de  causa,  nomen  Poetag.''  I  confess,  in- 
deed, that  the  passage  is,  in  this  way,  nothing 
more  than  an  answer  to  a  senseless  cavil.  But 
such  cavils,  we  know,  the  sophists  of  those  times  ^ 
did  not  disdain  to  make,  nor  Aristotle  always 
disdain  to  answer.  See  cap,  xxv.  TraiisL 
Part  IV. 

NOTE    76. 

P.  129.     Of  simple  Fables,  the  Episodic 

ARE    THE    WORST. 

Why,  of  simple  fables — azs-Awv  /au9«v  ?  as  if  the 
fault  here  noticed   were  peculiar   to  the  simple 
fable ;  that  is,  as  the  term  is  defined  in  the  io\r 
lowing  chapter,  the  fable  that  is  without  revolution 
or  discovery.     But  surely  this  could  not  be  Aris- 
totle's meaning.     Something,  I  am  persuaded,  is 
wrong:    but  I  have  no  probable  conjecture  to 
offer;    unless  it  may  be  thought   probable,  that 
AIIANTIIN,    abbreviated    perhaps    by  the   tran- 
scriber, might  be  mistaken  for  AFIAnN.     What 
Dacier  says  in  his  note  is  ingenious  and  true ;  but 
by  no  means,  I  think,  fully  accounts  for  Aristotle's 
expression,  which  implies  more,  than  that  these 
unconnected    Episodes,    "   se    rencontrent   plus 
"  ordinairemait  dans  les  fables  simples." 

Victorius 


^  Su<ii  a':    Protagoras,   Euclid,  Aiphrades,  mentioned 
hereafter  ux  this  ircaube. 

F  2 


Ti 


68  N    O.  T    E    S. 

Victorius  states  the  difficulty  fairly,  and  only 
asks,  with  a  modesty  which  inferior  critics  often 
want,  "  Jn  valet  quicquam  ad  eum  (scrupulum) 
"  evellendum,  quod  Tragoedia  simplex  su^  sponte 
**  non  vald^  elegans  est;  cui  si  accesserit  hoc 
'*  vitium,  ment6  deterrima  vocari  potest  ? " — For 
my  own  part,  I  must  answer  in  the  negative.  This 
idea  has  been  adopted  by  Goulston,  and  Le  Bossu. 
They  make  Aristotle  say — "  Simple  fables  are  not 
*^  so  £rood  as  complca:,  and  simple  fables  that  are 
*'  Episodic,  are  the  worst  of  all." — This  is  to 
supply  a  meaning,  not  to  find  one. 

For  the  sense  of  Episodes  here,  see  note  37, 
in  the  1st  volume. 

NOTE    77. 

p.  129.    In  order  to  accommodate  their 

PIECES     to     the      purposes     OF     RIVAL     PER- 
FORMERS,   &C. 

That  actors,  as  well  as  Poets,  contended  for 
the  prize  in  these  Tragic  games,  or  oiyuy^,  might 
be  sufficiently  proved  by  a  single  passage  in  the 
Et/iics  of  Aristotle,  where,  explaining  the  difference 
between  •sr^oai^io-K,  and  paXuo-*?,  he  says,  "  we  maf 
zvill,  or  desire,  things  not  at  all  in  our  own  power 
to  effect ;  as,  tliat  such  a  particular  actor  may 
gain  the  prize  :" — vzrox^nw  nyx  wxav,  >J  a9A?)Tiiv'. 

The 


<( 


(( 


« 


*  htinc.  Nicom.  Ill    iv.  ed.  Duval,  p.  30. 

Ay«wr«— '01  THOIO'ITAI.         Hctych. 


NOTES.  69 

The  reader  may  also  see  a  passage  in  the  Rhetoric, 
lib.  iii.  cap.  i.  which  throws  some  illustration  upon 
this  passage,  by  shewing  the  great  importance  of 
the  players  at  that  time,  and  the  dependance  ot  tlie 
Poets  upon  them:  for  Aristotle  there  says  of 
these  dramatic  contests,  that,   ««   ;uf,^«.   ,r.^«.r«. 

NTN  rm  toihtw^  a.   Jsroxf  ira.  ;   "  the  actors,  nou', 

"  have  greater  power— are  more  regarded,  and 
"  of  more  importance  to  the  success  of  the 
"  dramas— than  the  Poets."  A  revolution  some- 
what similar  is  recorded  by  Plutarch  to  have 
happened  between  the  later  Dithyrambic  Poets 
and   their    auAjira.,    or   flute-players :  —  to    yaa 

wc.flT,i»,  (Tvix^e^nKu,  T8!  ATAHTAS  w^tfa  not 
»omT&.i-Aa/*/3awit.T8?n*iirfi8f,  nPflTAmNIDTOTZHS 
^nAovoT.  TH2  nomZEilX,  r<oy  r  «JA,ra,.  TnHPE- 
TOTNTriN  T„t  J.<r«^x«Ao,f  Jrsfov  ii  [i.e.  when, 
as  he  says,  the  music  of  the  flute  became  more 
complicated,  refined,  and  difficult,]  xa,  t«t9 
Ju?9«f,  ^  But  all  this  is  nothing,  to  what  we 
have  heard  of  the  modern  despotism  sometimes 
exercised  by  great  opera  singers  over  the  com- 
posers. 

The  eflSjct  which  this  influence  of  the  players 
might  have,  ia  lengthening  and  disuniting  the 
action,  according  to  Aristotle's  complaint  here,  may 
be  easily  imagined.  Castelvetro  observes,  with 
great  probability,  of  these  ill-connected  i=^«,o.^«,-. 
"  £,  per- 

^'  De  Muiifa.  ed.  H.  St.  p.  2991. 

»-3 


10 


NOTES. 

"  E,    peraventura,   queste   digression!   fatte   per 

"  compiacere  i  rappresentatori,  riguardavaiio  piil 

"  k  qudlo  che  i  i^appresentatori  sapevano  bene 

"  contrafare,   che   alia    materia    naturale   della 
^^  favola;  accioche    essi  mostrassero  quelle  che 

"  valessero,  in  quello  dove  erano  pin  essercitati, 

*'  e  percio   piu   agevolmente  ottenessero  la  vit- 


"  tona  ^  '  Here,  too,  the  musical  reader,  will  be 
again__ reminded  of  the  privilege  so  intemperately 
exercised  by  modern  Italian  singers — the  lineal 
descendants,  according  to  some,  of  the  uVox^irai 
of  the  Greek  Opera — that  of  setting  aside,  when- 
ever they  please,  both  the  Poet,  and  the  cowposery 
by  the  introduction  of  such  songs,  from  other 
operas,  as  they  think  most  favourable  to  the  display 
of  their  peculiar  talents. 

The  influence  of  modern  actors  upon  the  pro- 
ductions of  the  Poet,  is,  perhajis,  not  less  than 
that  of  the  antient;  but  it  seems  to  be  exerted 
most  frequently  in  a  contrary  way,  though  one 
full  as  likely  to  spoil  the  i<pi^f}^  of  the  piece — that 

of 


*^  Poet.  d'Arist.  p.  2  20. — *'  Suuni  igitur  quisque,*'  says 
Cicero,  ''  noscac  ingenium,  acremque  se  et  bonorum  et 
'•  vitiorum  suorum  judicem  praebeat;  ne  scantci  plus 
'*  quain  nos  videantur  habere  prudently :  illi  enim,  non 
"  optimas,  sed  sibi  accommodatissimas  fabulas  eligunt ; 
"  qui  voce  freti  sunt,  Epigonos,  Medumque  ;  qui  gestUj 
*'  Menalippam,  Clytsemncstram  ;  semper  Rutilius,  quern 
"  ego  memini,  Antiopam ;  non  saepe  ^sopus  Ajacem. 
*^  Ergo  histrio  hoc  videbit  in  scaena,  non  videbit  vir  sa- 
"  piens  In  vita?"— Dt-  Ojfic,  I.  31. 


1^    O    T    E    S.  ji 

of  lopping.  The  distress  of  a  Poet  on  such 
occasions  is  represented  with  true  comic  force  by 
Mr.  Sheridan  in  his  Critic: 

Und.  Prompter. 

Sir,  the  carpenter  says  it  is  impossible  you  can 

go  to  the  park  scene  yet.  , 

Puff. 

The  park  scene !  no — I  mean  the  description 

scene  here,  in  tlie  wood. 

Und.  Prompt. 

Sir,  the  performers  have  cut  it  out,  &c. 

End  of  Act  II. 

NOTE    78. 

P.  129.     Beyond  their  powers . 

I  cannot  agree  with  the  commentators,  \vho 
render  -uroc^oc  mp  ^waijuv,  "  supra  id  quod  ferat ;" 
— referring  ^vmfjuv  to  the  fable  itself  I  think  it 
means  ultra  vires,  beyond  the  powers  of  the 
Poets.  And  so  the  Abb6  Batteux — **  audela  de 
sa  portee'' 

The  greater  the  length  of  the  fable,  the  greater, 
evidently,  is  the  difficulty  of  filling  it  up  with  con- 
sistent probability;  without  violating  that  close 
connection  of  incidents,  and  unity  of  action, 
which  the  rules  of  Aristode,  and  the  nature  of  the 
drama,  require. 


F4 


n 


NOTES. 


NOTE    79. 

P.  130.     That  purpose  is  best  ansm^ered 

BY  SUCH  events  AS  ARE  NOT  ONLY  UNEX- 
PECTED, BUT  UNEXPECTED  CONSEQUENCES  OF 
EACH  OTHER. 

TauTflt  $i  yiviTOn  fxocXifgc  touxvtoc,  kxl  fxoc\Xo¥  iroth 

yiyriroci  voc^x  rriu  ^o^av  Ji'  dxXnXoi, — This  IS  cer- 
tainly corrupt ;  nor  does  it  seem  easy  to  form  any 
probable  conjecture,  how  it  stood,  as  Aristotle  left 
it.  Whether  the  words,  xa*  (xocXXou,  be  ri^rht  or 
not,  they  serve,  as  the  text  at  present  stands,  only 
to  embarrass  a  passage,  which,  if  we  omit  them, 
seems  clear  enough,  both  in  construction  and 
meaning.  In  this  I  perfectly  agree  witli  the  last 
Oxford  editor ;  though  I  think  they  should  not 
be  hastily  ejected  from  the  text*. 

The  connection  and  drift  of  the  whole  passage 
seems  to  me  to  be  this.  Aristotle  is  here  recom- 
mending the  close  connection  of  incidents,  arising 
prohublij  or  necessarily  from  each  other,  in  a  new 
point  of  view — as  being  of  great  importance,  not 
only  to  the  ujiity  of  fable,  but  to  the  principal 
objett  of  Tragedy,  the  production  of  terror  and 
pity.  For  events  are  best  adapted  to  this  pur- 
pose,   most  striking   and   affecting,    when    they 

happen,   not    only    irct^a    rrjy   $olav,    but    iroc^x    my 

io^xif  aV  AAAHAA ;  when  the  wonder  arises,  not 

^only 

*  Mr.  Winstaaley's  edit.  p.  287. 


NOTES.  73 

only  from  their  happening  unexpectedly,  but  from 
their  being  the  consequences  of  events  fi'om  which 
no  one  could  have  expected  them  to  follow.  Thus 
connected,  as  cause  and  effect,  they  will  be  more 
surprising,  and  consequently  more  affecting,  more 
terrible  or  piteous  *,  than  if  they  appear  to  happen 

by  chance — azaro  rn  ocvtoixocth  )cat  t»j?  Tup^tj?*- — uxri — 

MET*  ccXkmXx  only,  not  Al'  dxXriXXj  according  to 
the  distinction  in  the  next  chapter  ^  To  illustrate 
this,  Aristotle  observes,  that  even  events  merely 
fortuitous,  are  more  wonderful  and  strikinor,  when 
they  are  such,  as  in  any  degree  suggest  to  the 
spectator  an  idea  of  purpose  and  design;  like 
the  accident  he  mentions  of  the  statue  that  fell 
upon  the  murderer  of  the  person  represented  by 
it. — And  all  this  is  connected  w  ith  what  follows, 
as  well  as  with  what  precedes  ;  evidently  pointing 
to  his  doctrine  about  the  in^iTnriix  in  the  next 
chapters. 

NOTE   80. 

P.  130.     The  STATUE  of  Mitys,  &c.    - 

In  Plutarch,  thus  : — xat  to  M*t»8  ra  A^ycia,  xara 

TatTiv  ai/ai^fOfVT^,  xv^^ixvtx  ^xXxhv  iv  ocyoox,  iix^ 
aa-r,;,    iiMZJ-i<rtiv   tw  xT£»v«kTi    rov    MiTioi/,    xxi    dveXuv. 

[m^t  Twi.  ^^xhcog,  &c.  p.  980.  ed.  H,  StJ] 

♦  1  he  effect  ot  surprise,  when  combined  W\i\\  pity  or 
terror,  is,  to  add  force  to  these  latter  passions,  which  ne- 
cessarily predominate  in  the  combination,  and  to  raise  the 
whole  feeling  to  a  higher  pitch.  See  Hume's  Essay  on 
Tragedy.  ^  Qip,x.     Aicupe^ei  ttoXj.  x.t.oX, 


74 


P.  130. 

CATKD. 


NOTES. 

NOTE    81. 

Fables  —  simple,  and  compli- 


It  is  high  time  to  discard  the  technical  jargon  of 
impLr  tables,  used  l)y  Addison  *,  and  others,  after 
the  Frrnch  writers.  If  any  authority  were  requi- 
site for  speaking  English,  I  have  that  of  Mr.  Harris, 
Who  renders  Aristotle's  «7rAo»,  and  fmrXty^ivoi,  by 
simple,  and  complicated, — Phil.  Inq,  p.  146. 

NOTE    82. 

P.  130.  When  its  catastrophe  is  pro- 
duced WITHOUT  EITHER  REVOLUTION  OR 
DISCOVERY. 

nrai. — MfxajSacrK,  is  the  Change  of  fortune  which 
constitutes  the  catastrophe  of  the  piece.  This, 
which  is  common  to  all  Tragedy,  must  not  be  con- 
founded with  the  Us^iviTux,  which,  however 
important,  is  not  essential.  Le  Bossu,  Dacier,  and 
others,  by  not  attending  to  this  distinction,  have 
introduced  much  confusion  into  one  of  the  clearest 
parts  of  Aristotle's  work.  Thus,  Dacier  says — 
*'  II  appelle  fable  simple,  celle  ou  il  n'y  a  ni  change- 
"  ment  cF  etat,  ni  reconnoisance,  et  dont  le  denoue- 
*'  ment  n'est  qu'un  simple  passage  de  r  agitation 
"  et  du  trouble  au  repos   et  d.  la  tranquillite'^ 

—He 

*  Spectator,  N"  297. 


N    O    T    £    S.  75 

— He  adopts  the  language  of  Le  Bossu  *. — 
Undoubtedly,  there  are  Tragedies  without  a  sudden 
and  unexpected  reverse  of  fortune ;  but  where  is 
the  Tragedy,  antient  or  modern,  in  which  there 
is  no  **  changement  d"  etat?'^  This  would  be  no 
other  than  a  Tragedy  without  a  catastrophe.  Thus, 
these  writers  take  fAiTx^aa-i;  to  signify  the  mere 
passage,  progress,  or  suite,  of  tlie'  piece  ^ :  whereas 
it  clearly  signifies  a  change;  a  transition  from 
prosperous  to  adverse,  or  at  least  from  adverse  to 
more  adverse,  fortune,  or  the  contrary ;  as  Beni  has 
well  observed  ^  The  sense  of  the  word  is  clearly 
fixed  by  other  passages  ;  and  in  cap.  xviii.  he  ex- 
pressly makes  the  /txETajSacif,  such  a  change  of 
forttme  as  is  common  to  eve?y  Tragedy.     Er*  h 

IIASHS  T^ayy^taf,  to  i^iv,  ^t(ng,  to  hy  Kxid^q. — Xiyus 
h  h(ny  [xty  ilvoLi  tdi/  aTJ  afp^r?  /^^Xf *  '^^'^^  "^^  />t«f8? 
0  Ic^ixrov  iriy,  l^  a  METABAINEI  iU  iurv^iocv' 
Xu(riv    (Ti,  T»i/  aVo  rng   a.^X'^'*   ^^^^    METABA2EI12 

Mr.  Harris,  in  his  PhiloL  Inquiries,  p.  145,  &c. 
seems  to  have  deserted  Aristotle  for  Le  Bossu,  who, 
with  little  reason,  in  my  opinion,  passed  with  him, 
as  well  as  with  Lord  Shaftsbury,  for  ^'Aristotle's 
best  inteipreter^''    Throughout  his  chapter  on 

this 

*  Du  Poeme,  Ep,  11.  16. 

^  "  Non  si  prende  fjLira^ao'ig  in  questo  luogo  per  muta- 
"  tione,  come  credono  alcuni,  ma  per  lo  processo  dell* 
attione  dal  principio  al  fine."     Castelvetro,  ^.  242. 

'  Comment,  p.  255. 

*  Treatise  On  Music^  Painting,  &c.  p.  83,  Note^ 


X 


7^  NOTES. 

this  subject,  above  referred  to,  he  appears  to  me  to 
confound  the  /*.r«p«^.f,  or  change,  which  Aristotle 
makes  essential  to  all  Tragedy,  with  ihat  particular 
hnd  of  change  which  he  denominates  ir.f .^.t««  : 
for  he  uses,  repeatedly,  the  word  revolution,  (his 
translation  of  ^i^i-^tnlx,) ^o  express  what  Aristotle 
means  by  ^.T*/3aa-,f,  ,.£Ta/3a.K.v,  ;ufr«(3*AA«.».     He 
speaks  of  Othdlo,  and  Ltar,  as  complicated  fables, 
and  having  revolutions.     And   so,  indeed,   they 
have,  if  we  take  the  word  in  Aristotle's  sense  of 
M«r«|3<,^.f ;  I  do  not  see  that  they  have,  in  his  sense 
of  ^i^ivr.Ti^x.    In  neither  of  those  Tragedies  can  it, 
I  think,  be  said,  that  the  catastrophe  is  produced 
by  a  sudden  change,   to  the  reverse  of  xvhat  is 
expected,  by  the  spectator,  from  the  circumstances 
of  the  action    At  least,  with  respect  to  Othello, 
this  seems  to  admit  of  no  dispute.     [See  the  next 

KOTE.] 

The  Abb6  Batteux  gives,  I  think  very  properly, 
the  Polieucte  of  Corneille,  as  an  example  of  the 
simple  fable.  "  La  fable  simple,  qui  n'  a  ni  revo- 
"  lution  subite,  ni  reconnoisance  ;  qui  commence, 
"  continue,  s'acheve,  sans  secousses,  ni  retours 
"  inattendus.  Ainsi  Polieucte  refoit  le  bapt^me, 
"  son  zele  lui  fait  renverser  les  autels  des  payens, 
"  il  est  arrfit^,  jug^,  mis  ;\  mort :  c'est  unc  fable 
"  simple '." 

Victorius,  Beni,  Piccolomini,  and  Goulston, 
agree  with  me  in  my  idea  of  this  passage,  where  the 
___^_^  words, 

!  Principcs  de  la  Lit.  tome  iii.  p.  84. 


NOTES.  yy 

words,  (Tuvi^ag  xai  ^t«c,  are  not  put  to  characterize 
the  simple  fable,  as  Victorius  well  observes,  but 
refer  merely  to  that  unity  and  continuity  of  action, 
which  had  been  established  as  necessary  to  Tra- 
gedy in  general. 

NOTE  83. 

P.  131.       A    REVOLUTION    IS A    CHANGE 

INTO  THE  REVERSE  OF  WHAT  IS  EXPECTED 
FROM  THE  CIRCUMSTANCES  OF  THE  ACTION. 

Eg-t   Se  Ta-e^iwsTBiu  pj/,  ij  slg   to   Ivocvtiov   ruv 
w^cx,TTOf/,svtov  fjLSTct(2oX7j^  x^otQocweo  eloriTui. 

The  sense  of  these  words  has  not,  I  think,  been 
exactly  given  in  any  translation  I  have  yet  seen, 
except  that  of  the  accurate  and  judicious  Picco- 
lomini:  "  La  Peripetia  intendo  io  essere  una 
"  mutation  di  fortuna,  che  (fatta  nel  modo  che 
"  si  6  detto,)  accaschi  al  contrario  di  quello  che 
"  dalle  cose  ordite  aspettar  si  potesseJ'  In  literal 
English—'*  When  the  things  that  are  doing  (t« 
"  v^ocTTOfAtvx)  have  an  effect  the  very  reverse  of 
what  is  expected  from  them."  That  this  is  the 
meaning,  appears  plainly  from  the  instance  imme- 
diately subjoined  :   wVisr^f  ev  tw  Oi^mo^^,  U6u)y  nx 

ET^PANUN  Tov  "Oi^iwHiy  xa<  ol-sraX?^oc^uv  m  isr^og  rrip 
/AJiT£^a  (po(iiSy  $nXu)(Ttxq  ofi;  iv  T'OTNANTION 
EnOIHSE.  As  the  words-^  ,U  to  cW.rio.  r^, 
v^xT.  fA.tr.  are  rendered  by  Dacier,  and  others— 
''  chimgement  de  Jortwie  en  une  fortune  con- 
''  traire'— they  express  nothing  but  what  is  com- 
mon 


€C 


ti 


7?  NOTES. 

mon  to  Tragedy  in  general ;    and  -srif  imrna   m 
confounded  with  /xfraiSao-K.  [See  last  note.]  But, 
it  is  well  observed  by  Piccolomini,   *'  Non  s'  hi, 
"  parimente,  da  intendere,  quando  diciamo  la  pe- 
**  peripetia  esser  mutation  di  fortuna,  ogni  sorte  di   ' 
"  mutatione  da  una  condltione  e  stato  di  fortuna 
"  ad  un  altro ;  jion  potendo  esser  Tragedia  alcuna 
"  in  cui  qualche  cos}  fatta  mutatione  non  si  ri- 
"  trovi."  [p.  167.]    In  the  usual  way  of  translating 
the  passage,  a  circumstance  essential  to  the  srif  i-   * 
•crnux  is  entirely  omitted  in  the  definition;  its 
being  surprising,  and  contrary  to   expectation  *. 
This,  it  is  true,  Dacier  has  expressed  in  his  ver- 
sion, by  the  words,  "  contre  ce  quon  avoit  attenduJ' 
But  this  is,  professedly,  his  own  supplement  of 
Aristotle's  text.     And  indeed  I  once  thought  the 
text  defective,    and  that  Aristotle  had  probably 
written  it—fABraeoXn,  HAPA  THN  AOHAN,  xociocrt^ 
tl^nrai :  alluding  to  the  latter  part  of  cap.  ix.   But, 
as  I  now  understand  the  passage,  this  idea  is  suf* 
ficiently  implied.    The  words,  xaSawf^  il^ura*,  have 
puzzled  and  divided  the  commentators,   by  their 
obscurity  of  reference.     Upon  the  whole  I   am 
inclined  to  tliink,  they  point  to  what  he  had  said 
cap.  ix.  [TransL  Part  II.  Sect.  7.]  which,  as  I 
before  observed,  [note  80.]  seems  manifestly  to 
be  a  preparation  for  this  chapter ;  and  in  which 
^ ^ .  the 

■  Usfi'X'Freiat  ^e  \syovrou  ra  IIAF  EAIllAA  av/x^i^nxoTot 
TravTa,  km  outu;  Trapa  TPAriKOlS  hi  na^VTai, — Schot, 
Nicand,  quoted  by  Robortelli^  p.  io6. 


NOTES.  jrjj 

the  words,  vxpx  mv  ^o^xv  ^i*  xXXnXx — events  that 

are  "  unexpected  consequences  of  each  other'' 

answer  to  the  definition  of  TFi^i-nimx,  as  here  ex- 
plained. 

That  this  is  the  meaning  of  Aristotle's  words, 
I  have  no  doubt.  But,  perhaps,  even  the  words 
themselves  have  been  inaccurately  rendered,  and 
T^xrroiAivuv  should  be  constructed,  not  with  fxirx- 

P^A^I,  but  with  ii/ai/Tiov  : — iig  ro  Ivxyjiov  rooy  Tr^arro- 

fAiyuv:  i.e.  in  contrarium  eorum  quce  agimtur. 
This  was  suggested  to  me  by  the  literal  version 
which  the  accurate  Mr.  Harris  has  given  of  the 
wwds  in  his  Philol.  Inq,  p.  148. — ''  A  revo- 
"  LUTION  is,  as  has  been  already  said,  a  chancre 
*'  into  the  reverse  of  what  is  doing."'  The  defi- 
nition, I  think,  though  its  sense  be  the  same  in 
either  way,  would  thus  be  more  clear,  and  would 
answer  more  exactly  to  what  follows. 


NOTE   84. 

P.  131.     Thus  in  the  Oedipus,  the  mes- 
senger, &c. 

—  ExJwv  wf  tv(ppxvuv  r(i>y  Oi^ittxi/,  xxi  xTTxXXx^uy  t» 

w^oi;  mv  fxriTi^x  (po^s.     Alluding,  probably,  to  the 
very  words  of  the  messenger  in  Sophocles  : 

T/  SrjT    lyuy    i    TOTAE    TOT     OOBOT    <r\ 

E'sreme^  ETNOTS  HA0ON,  ESEATSAMHN; 

V.  I012. 


Bo 


NOTES. 


NOTE    85. 

P.  133-     These  then  are  two  parts  of 

THE  FABLE — REVOLUTION  AND   DISCOVERY. 
Avo  fxiv  81/  T«  fMuia  fxs^n  IIEPI  TATTA   cV*,  frs^t- 

TTiTsix  xa»  avayvcdfKfif.  "  Circa  ficec'^  About 
ichat  ?  What  are  we  to  understand  by  raura  r — 
Victorius  says,  ra  ir^xrToixim ;  and  Dacier,  after 
him,  "  Qui  regardent  le  sujety  I  cannot  be  sa- 
tisfied with  this.  Ta  sr^xrroixiyx,  the  Subject ^  the 
action,  are  sufficiently  expressed  by  the  word  jituJa. 
Would  Aristotle  have  said,  '*  These  are  two  parts 
"  of  the  fabie  relative  to  the  fable?''  I  have, 
therefore,  neglected  the  word  ijegi  in  my  trans- 
lation, in  conformity  to  the  probable  conjecture  of 
Madius.  Every  reader  sees  how  easily  it  might 
get  into  the  text  from  the  word  Tun^ns-sTeiOi  which 
presently  follows.  I  rather  think,  however,  that, 
retaining  w£^»,  we  should  read,  -cfs^i  Y  ATTA  : — 
"  circa  easdeni  resf — to  point  out  the  clgse  con- 
nection of  these  two  parts  of  the  fable,  as  thinc^s 
of  the  same  kind^  and  counterparts,  as  it  were,  to 
each  other,  co-operating  to  the  same  effect — the 
production  of  terror,  pity,  surprise,  &c.  And 
thus  they  are  afterwards  mentioned  together^  as 
constituting  one  species  of  Tragedy :  n  /x£v  yxo^ 
TxmxrXtyfXEpfi,  v;  ro  oXov  in  nEPIIlETEIA  KAI  ANAF- 

NXIPISI5:.  [cap.  xviii.  Transl.  Part  II.  Sect.  19.] 
The  same  mode  of  expression  occurs  in  the  Ethics 
ad  Niconu  lib.  iv.  cap.  1 3.  IIEPI  TA    ATTA   h 


NOTES.  gi 

m^tit¥  E2TI  x«i  11  aXflt^oi/naf  jitf(ror»i? :  "  in  iisdem 
vertitury  That  is,  as  appears  from  the  con- 
text, the  virtue,  of  which  he  is  there  speaking,  was 
of  the  same  kind,  or  class,  with  that,  which  was 
the  subject  of  the  foregoing  chapter.  Both  were 
among  the  a.^iroci  ofAiXnTixcu.  So,  in  the  conclusion 
of  the  subsequent  chapter — r^n^  hv  it  tl^nfxtpxi  sv 
ry  /3iu  /AftroTHTff •   EIXI    cTf  vxa-xi  IIEPI  Xoym    riyup 


NOTE    86. 

P-    133-      Disasters,     comprehend    all 

PAINFUL  OR  destructive  ACTIONS,  &C. 

It  seems  hardly  reconcilable  with  philosophical 
accuracy,  to  use  such  an  expression  as  nA0O2  In 
nPASIX — defining  the  suffering  to  be  the  action 
that  causes  the  suffering. 

In  his  Metaphysics  he  puts  it  thus  : — ra  fxtytin 

rbi¥  <ru/x<pof  wy  xa»  Auwtj^wi^  IIAOH  Xtyirxi  *. 

This  word,  w«6i^,  in  the  sense  here  used,  is 
very  embarrassing  to  a  translator.  The  word 
passion,  in  this  sense,  of  suffering,  is,  with  us,  ap- 
propriated to  a  subject,  from  which  it  cannot, 
without  a  sort  of  profanation,  be  transferred  to 
any  other.  The  French,  however,  have  done  this 
without  scruple,  though  the  word,  when  So  applied, 
must  be  explained  before  it  can  be  understood. 
Upon  the  whole,  I  could  find  no  single  words  that 

'  seemed 


V.  21. 


VOL.  II. 


♦i  •NOTES, 

seemed  to  me  to  answer  so  nearly  to  «*l^,  and 
its  adjective,  ir«(liiTi)tn»,  in  the  sense  in  which  they 
are  used  here,  and  in  cap,  xviii.  as  disaster,  and 
its  correspondent  adjective,  disastrous.  Their 
original,  desastrcj  is  explained  in  the  Diet,  of  the 
French  Academy,  by  "•  accident  J  uneste.'' 
"  Wherein  I  spoke  of  most  disastrous  chances, 
Of  moving  accidents  [^«9n]  by  flood,  and  field.'' 

OtbcUo,  Act  I.  5f.  IIL 

NOTE   87. 

P-  ^ii'    The  exhibition  of  death,  &c. 

Ev  T«  ^«irffco  Jai>«Toi. — A  plain  passage,  which 
the  commentators  seem  to  have  taken  great  pains 
to  perplex  with  difficulties  of  their  own  invention. 
The  plain  meaning  oi"  the  expression  is,  cvhibited 
on  the  stage :  iv  opixkfxoit  fa^iyofAtvs  TOT  ITAQOTi:, 
•5  it  is  expressed  in  the  Rhetoric,  Ub.  ii.  cap.  viii, 
p.  560. 

Aristotle  is  here  only  explaining  the  term  wa9j^; 
not  laying  down  a  rule,  nor  deciding  concerning 
the  propriety,  or  impropriety,  of  such  exhibitions. 
Nothing  is  more  evidently  absurd,  than  the  at- 
tempts of  Dacier  and  other  French  critics  to 
transfer  the  delicacy  of  their  theatre  to  tliat  of  the 
antients.  The  scrupulous  delicacy  of  French 
Tragedy  was,  I  believe,  as  unknown  to  tl)e  Athe- 
nian stage,  as  its  rigid  and  strutting  dignity. 
A  single  passage,  and  that,  from  the  most  polished 
-of  the  three  Greek  Tragic  Poets  w  liosc  works  are 
3  extant. 


NOTES.        ^  83 

txtant,  may  sufficiently  prove  this ;  I  mean  the 
description  of  Oedipus  tearing  out  his  own  eyes,  in 
Sophocles. 

ToiocuT  l(pvfiifm,  TToXKocxig  tb  k  ovx  ciTru^ 
H^ourtr,  iTrutoeav  fiXiCpocou'   (poivixi  V  Ijam 
TXf[yxi  ytvu  ireyyoV  «J"  Gcvt£(roe,v 
Ooi/K  fjuuico(Tocq  ^ocyovocg'  aXX'  ofJLH  [jLeXag 

0/x/3^G'  %aXa^;  cct/jLocTog  InyyiTO  *. 

Oed.  Tyr.  v.  1284. 

"  Thus  oft  exclaiming,  he  his  eyelids  raised, 
"  And  rent  the  orbs  of  sight ;  the  bleeding  balls 
**  Imbath'd  his  cheeks,  nor  ceased  the  gushing 

"  drops, 
"  But  rain'd  a  shower  of  black  and  streaming 
"  gore.**  Potter's  Translation. 

But  Sophocles  did  not  confine  himself  to  descrip- 
tion. Oedipus  himself  immediately  appears  upon 
the  stage,  and  exhibits  the  shocking  spectacle  of 
his  bloody  eyes  to  the  audience.  Certainly,  the 
French  rule,  "  de  ne  pas  ensanglanter  le  Theatre," 
w^as  not  much  more  strictly  observed  here  by 
Sophocles,  than  it  was  by  Shakspeare  in  his  Lear, 
where  Glosters  eyes  are  trodden  out,  h  fai/f^^, 
upon  tlie  stage. 

I  cannot  quit   this   instance  from  Sophocles, 
without  diverting  the  reader,  (for  I  am  persuaded 

It 


♦  This  line  w,  undoubtedly,  faulty.  The  best  emen- 
dation  I  have  seen  proposed  appears  to  me  to  be  that  of 
Mr.  Heath,  who  would  read,  aifiarosii — ^i.  e.  contracted, 

G  2 


tf  {    .N    O  -T.E    S. 

it  will  diveij  jffim,)  with  Pere-  Brumoy's  apology, 
or,  rather,  with  the  joint  apology  of  him,  M.  Dacier, 
and  Boileau.  "  Le  grand  Corneille  et  ses 
**  successeurs  Tragiques,  ont  cru  que  ce  seroit  una 
"  chose  horrible  d  exposer  Oedipe  aveugle  et 
*'  sanglant  aux  yeux  des  spectateurs.  M.  Dacier 
**  leur  repond  trks-hkn  par  ces  vers  de  Des- 
"  PREAUK,  Art  Poet,  chant  ii. 

"  II  n'est  point  de  serpent,  ni  de  monstre  odieux, 
"  Qui  par  I'art  imite  ne  puisse  plaire  aux  yeux. 
"  D'un  pmceau  delicat  Vartijice  agrtahle 
"  Du  plus  affreux  objet  fait  un  ohjet  aimableJ 
"  Ainsi  pour  nous  charmer,    la   Trag^die  en 

pleurs 
**  jy Oedipe  tout  sanglant  fit  parler  les  douleurs  *." 

This  is  pushing  Aristotle's  principle,  of  the 
pleasure  we  receive  from  the  imitation  even  of 
disagreeable  objects  **,  rather  farther  than,  I  be- 
lieve, he  thought  of.  A  critic  of  much  more  taste 
and  much  less  prejudice,  speaking  of  the  Philoc* 
tetes  of  Sophocles  %  has  observed,  "  that  the 
"  antients  thought  bodily  pains  and  wounds,  &c* 
"  (iri^twJuvjai  Kxi  r^oocrsii)  proper  objects  to  be  re- 
presented on  the  stage.  See  also  the  Tr&chinia 


It 


u 


of 


*  Theatre  des  Grecs,  i.  J45. 
^  Above,  cap.  iv.     Transl.  Part  I.  Sect.  5. 
'  See  V.  749,  &c.  panicularly,  796,7  :  and  the  dc«- 
cription  of  the  bleeding  wound,  v.  845. 

'AifiOf^ayni  pAf>J<.  -  -  -  - 


ti 


NOTES.        .  85 

of  Sophocles,  and  the  lamentations  of  Hercules 


d  » 


''  in  it  . 

Hippolytus,  after  having  been  dragged  ov^r  the 
rocks,  and  almost  torn  to  pieces,  by  his  fiery 
coursers,  appears  upon  the  stage  with  his  man- 
gled and  bleeding  limbs'. — Bat,  according  to  Boi- 
leau, Dacier,  &c.  these  are  all  "  obfets  aimables."" 

NOTE   88. 

P.  133.    The  Commoi  are  founp  in  some 

ONLY. 

The  Greek  says— iV»a  A,  ret  mjsrt>  (rxnpni  KAI 
xofAfMou    Here,  the  xo/a/x©*,  and  the  rx  dwo  a-xunic, 
are  represented  as  distinct  things.     But  in  the 
definition   afterwards,  Ko/*/x®*  appears  to  be  the 
name  given  to  the  joint  lamentation  of  the  chorus 
and  the  actors.     Ko^/a^  ^i,  i^nv^  xon^^o^a  km 
ivo  (mnm.     Victorius  states  this  difficulty,  but 
without  giving  any  satisfactory  solution.   .  And 
indeed  I  see  no  way  of  reconciling  these  passa^^es, 
unless  we  suppose  Aristotle  to   have  expressed 
himself  very  loosely  and  inaccurately,  and  to  have 
meant,  that  xo/xp(^  was  the  qame  appropriated  to 
that  part  of  the  Xo^ixoy  which  joined  or  alternated 
with   one  or  more  of  the   «Vo    (rx>jv»j?--i.  e.  the 
actorsi  so  that  by,  Ko/x^(^  fi^  fi^ „^t^  xo»i.^  ^o^^^ 


xoei 


**  Dr.  Wanton's  Essay  on  Pope,  vol.  i.  73,  Note. 
•  HippoL  Eurip.  v.  1236,  &c,— and  1348.     In  Mr. 
Potter's  u-a«slauon,  v.  1318,  19,  20;  and  1438,  &c. 

03 


6 


«  NOTES. 

Kai  info  tf-xtii^n;,  we  are  to  understand  only,  that 
Ko[A(jL^  was  that  6^r\y^  or  lamentation  of  tkt 
chorus,  in  which  the  actors^  alternately,  took  part; 
as  if  the  Greek  had  been  thus : — 8^ti>©*  XH^  '^"^ 

XOINX2NOTXIN   oi   «V*  axftym.      And   SO,    t«  otirt 

cxriyi)^  KAI  xofAfAoi  would  Only  mean,  the  xo|tA/xo*  of 
the  chorus  with  the  avo  rxfivm — that  is,  mixed 
with  the  lamentation  of  the  actors,  or^  persons  of 
the  drama. 

But  it  seems  more  for  the  credit  of  our  philoso- 
phical critic,  to  give  up  the  jfr^^  of  these  passages 
as  corrupt,  and  to  adhere  to  the  plain  sense  of  the 
definition.  I  have,  therefore,  taken  no  notice  of 
the  words,  roc  izro  (TXJivT)?,  in  my  version.  Nothing 
is  lost  by  the  suppression.  The  sense  of  the  word 
nofAfA^  is  left,  like  that  of  the  other  terms,  to  be 
fixed  by  its  definition. 

;note  89. 

P.  134.     Between  entire  choral  odes. 

I  confess  myself  not  satisfied  as  to  the  meaning 
of  this  expression,  'OAXIN  x^^^xcov  /AiXwy.  I  have 
therefore  adhered  to  the  fair  and  literal  tran>lation 
of  the  words. — But  what  is  an  entire  choral  ode 
or  song  ?  Is  it  that,  which  is  in  the  regular  lyric 
form,  in  strophe  and  antistrophe?  So  it  seems 
most  natural  to  understand  it.  But  a  difficulty 
meets  us.  For  when  the  na^oJ(^,  as  it  often,  and 
indeed  almost  always,  happens,  is  not  such  a  re- 

gular 


NOTES.  9r 

gulir  Antistrophic  Ode,  what  name  is  to  be  given 
to  that  part  of  the  Tragedy,  which  lies  between 
the  vA^o^^  and  the  first  Antistrophic  Ode?  It 
cannot  make  a  part  of  the  Tl^oXoy&»,  for  that  ends 
with  the  UocfoiQ^,  The  Edvde  is  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. There  remains  only  the  Episode;  and  to 
that  it  cannot  belong,  consistently  with  Aristotle's 
definition  of  Ewiio-o^iok,  because  it  will  not  be, 
according  to  this  sense  of  oAwi»,  '*  between  entire 
choral  OdesJ^  If  we  take  entire  to  mean,  all 
choraly  Le.  not  broken  and  interrupted  by  the 
«Vo  o-ituvflf,  or  the  persons  of  the  drama,  we  shall 
still  be  embarrjissed  with  the  same  difficulty :  for, 
whenever  the  va^oi^  is  not,  in  this  sense,  entire^ 
which  is  frequently  the  case ',  the  part  between 
that  and  the  first  entire  Ode,  will  be  without  a 
name. 

Shall  we,  then,  with  some  commentators,  sup- 
pose Aristotle  by  oX»y  ^o^ikuv  fAiXuy,  to  have  meant 
only,  ixn  p^o^ii  f4,i\u¥ — i.  e.  melodies  sung  by  the 
whole  chartis^?  This  removes  the  difficulty.  Yet 
I  can  hardly  conceive,  that  he  would  have  expres- 
sed himself  in  a  manner  so  w  antonly  ambiguous, 

when 


^o- 


J  ■  — 


•  As  in  the  Xla^o^  of  die  Orestes  of  Eufipides,  the 
EUctra  of  Sophocles,  &c. 

*  So  Goulston — "  Inter  plenos  choricos  cantus ;  qui 
set/,  ab  unlverso  fiehant  choro.^^  Vict.  "  Pleni  integriquf 
cantus V  So  ?icco\,  ^  Jntieri  canti.**  Heinsius,  Dacier, 
and  Bacteux,  avoid  tlie  difficulfy  by  omitting  the  wotd 
.j|4V  in  their  translatjions.  ^ 

04 


W  K    O    T    E    S. 

when  the  clear  and  decisive  expression— oAk  ^^fir, 
which  he  presently  after  uses,  was  so  obvious. 

From  an  accurate  and  philosophical  writer,  one 
would  naturally  expect  a  chapter  of  definitions  to 
be  clear.  But  whoever  expects  it  here  will  cer- 
tainly be  disappointed.  Alnwst  every  definition, 
to  Be  perfectly  intelligible,  wants  other  definitions, 
which  are  not  given,  and  which  the  obscure  and 
imperfect  information  to  be  found  in  other  antient 
authors  will  not  enable  us  to  supply. 

NOTE  90. 
P-  ^34.    The  Parode  i»  the  fiest  speech 

OF    THE    WHOLE    ChORUS. 

Ucc^o^  fAt)f  tf  ir^ta-rn  AEHII   oAa   ;^o^h. — Though 

Af  J«f,  in  its  proper  signification,  is  mere  speech,  yet 
it  appears  to  have  been  occasionally  extended  to 
such  melody  as  imitated  speech,  and  to  have  an- 
swered nearly  to  the  modern  term  recitative. 
[See  NOTE  46,  and  particularly  the  passage  from 
Plutarch  at  the  end  of  it.]  And  such,  I  have  no 
doubt,  is  the  sense  in  which  it  is  here  used,  to 
distinguish  the  melody  of  the  Parodos  from  that 
of  the  regular  choral  odes ;  which  I  suppose  to 
have  been  a  more  varied,  measured,  and,  as  we 
may,  not  improperly,  term  it,  a  more  musical 
melody.  For  want  of  understanding  this  dis- 
tinction, the  commentators  have  made  strange 
confusion,  by  taking  AiJk,  either  in  its  literal  sense 

of 


N    O    T    £    S.  S9 

of  mere  speaking,  or  in  a  sense  absolutely  syno- 
nymous  with  fAtxQ^,  as  Dacier  does.  But  it  is 
hardly  to  be  imagined,  that  Aristotle  would  us^ 
the  word  Affi?  without  any  reason;  and,  that  the 
n»^.i^  could  not  be  mere  speech,  or  declamation, 
such  as  that  of  our  stage,  seems  evident  enough 
from  the  expression,  Affif  'OAQT  ^o^u.  A  num- 
ber  may  sing  together,  in  a  kind  of  measured 
recitative,  or  simple  chanting;  but  they  cannot 
well  speak  together,  without  intolerable  confusion. 
This  would  be  that  vefy  x^^^  ^i^A.xTix(^,  which 
Demetrius  mentions  as  a  thing  absurd  and  un- 
heard  of  *. 

There  is  a  singular  passage  la  Dionysius  of 
Halicarnassus,  which  affords,  I  think,  a  strong 
confirmation,  both  of  the  sense  which  I  have  here 
given  to  the  word  AiJk,   and  of  the  propriety  of 

its 


cc 


ft 


tt 


•  De.net.  mpi  Ef^.  Sect.  168,  where  speaking  of  some 
poems  of  Sappho,  that  descended  beneath  the  Lyric 
dignity  and  elegance,  both  in  subject  and  style,  he  says. 
"  they  were  fitter  to  be  recited,  than  sung,  and  were  iU 
adapted  to  be  performed  by  a  chorus,  or  accompanied 
by  the  lyre ;  unless,"  says  he,  "  there  were  such  a 
thing  as  a  speaking  chorus  :"_„•  ^  r-f  b,  vo.®-  ?<»- 

Choral  rm/a/«V  indeed,  judiciously  introduced,  and  not 
continued  too  long,  I  have  often  thought,  might  occasion- 
ally  be  so  managed  as  to  produce  a  striking  effect.  An 
example  of  it,  and  a  very  fine  one,  is  to  be  found  in  an 
Oratorio  of  that  admirable  composer,  Eman.  Bach  of 
which  the  title,  io  English,  is,  The  Israelite,  in  the  fVH- 
dernest. 


Is 


99i  NOTES. 

its  application  in  that  sense  to  the  choral  Umf^t^, 
In  the  1  ith  section  of  his  treatise  JDe  Struct.  Orat. 
in  oi-der  to  shew,  how  little  pros(Kly  was  regarded 
by  the  com[X)sers  of  the  Tragic  melodies,  he  cri- 
ticises the  melody  of  the  following  lines  from  the 
Orestes  of  Euripides : 

Z«ya,  (TiyoCy  Xbvkov  J%vo^  d^f^uXtig 

TSaTBy  fJLff  KTVTrStTB 

ATTOTTPofioiT  i,ic6i(r\  aTfOTT^oSi  ycoiTot^.     V.  140. 

Now  it  is  remarkable,   1.  that  he    calls   this, 
MEA02,  and  yet  represents  it  as  said  by  Electra  : 

2AN TTfogrov  ^o^ov, — 2.  That  the  melody,  to 

which  these  words  were  set,  was  the  simplest 
possible ;  a  kind  of  chant'mg  ?rcitative.  The  three 
first  words,  for  instance,  were  set  to  one  note  ^ 


^ 


33 


S 


m 


T^ycCf  ciyuj  T^bvkov — 
— and  in  other  words  too,  the  same  tone,  as  this 
author  clearly  informs  us,  was  frequently  repeated. 
This  may  be  regarded  as  somewhat  of  a  musical 
curiosity.  For  it  is  an  authentic,  though  indeed 
a  very  scanty  and  imperfect  specimen,  of  one  part 
of  the  dramatic  choral  music  of  the  Greeks. 
3dly,  This  very  melody  was  probably  that  of  the 
na{0(J(^  of    this   Tragedy.      Dionysius,    indeed, 


gives 


**  Ev   yoLo   5n   tsto^,   to,    2<7a,  (rryai;    Afwov,  I9*  *ENOS 
$0OrrOT  MEAaAElTAL 


NOTES.  ^ 

gives  these  words  to  Electra*;  but  in  all  the 
editions  of  Euripides  which  I  have  seen,  the  t«m 
first  lines  aie  given  to  the  chorus;  with  more 
propriety,  I  think,  if  we  attend  to  what  goes  be- 
fore.  Electra  had  just  said  to  the  chorus,  on  their 
coming  in  while  Orestes  was  sleeping; 

The  words,  therefore,  which  Dionysius,  quoting 
probably  by  memory,  attributes  to  Electra,  would 
seem  to  come  more  naturally  from  the  mouths 
of  the  choral  virgins,  repeating  to  each  other  the 
caution  she  had  given  them.  But  whether  this  be 
so  or  not,  yet,  that  this  was  the  Jirst  entry  of  the 
chorus  upon  the  stage,  is  clear  from  the  preceding 
speech  of  Electra:  and  the  Lyric  part,  which 
follows  that  speech,  if  it  does  not  begin  with,  pro- 
bably contains,  at  least,   the  v^urr^y  Xt^iv  oXa  ^ofa ; 

being  all  in  the  regular  choral  form  of  Strophe 
and  Antistrophe,  and,  in  all  probability,  set 
throughout  to  melody  of  the  same  kind.  Perhaps 
the  xvhok  chorus  might  not  begin  to  sing,  till  the 
third  Strophe,  rioTj^ia,  troTvia  yv^. — If,  as  Victorius 
contends,  this  be  not  the  Parados,  it  cannot  bet^in 
before,  v.  316, 

At,  At, 

A^of/^aSeg  ug — k.t.ocX. — 

JBut,  the  very  application   of  the  word  ra^o^©*, 

_. which 

*  So  does  the  author  of  one  oF  the  arguments  prefixed 
to  the  Tragedy :  «$  ^n^iv  E^atT^a  t«  x°^^ 


^  NOTES. 

Which  properly  signifies  the  entry,  or  arrival  of 
the  chorus  **,  ta  the  7r^(siry[  Xi^k,  or  first  speech  of 
the  whole  chorus,  shews,  I  think,  sufficiently,  the 
close  connection  of  the  two  things ;  and  that  we 
are  never  to  look  for  that  ^rst  speech,  at  such  a 
distance  from  the^r^  entrance,  of  tlie  chorus. 

But,  it  may,  perhaps,  be  objected  to  the  distinc- 
tion I  understand  here  between  Aig^  and  /x«X(^, 
that  it  will  jBxpose  us  to  the  very  difficulty  men- 
tioned in  the  last  Note:  it  will  make  Aristotle's 
enumeration  of  the  parts  into  which  Tragedy  is 
divided,  incomplete;  because,  if  we  admit  it,  the 
part  between  ,  the  riaj o<J(^  and  the  first  Irae-ifAow 
or  regular  Ode,  will  want  a  name.  For,  if  any 
thing,  it  must  be  ETriio-oJioy ;  but  this,  it  may 
be  said,  it  cannot  be,  because  it  will  not  be,  ac- 
cording to  Aristotle's  definition,  /ucra^u  ^o^ixup 
MEAflN ;  the  Parode  being  not  fcfA©',  but  Afjtf . 
• — It  seems  a  sufficient  answer  to  this  objection,  to 
observe,  that  At^K,  here,  is  not  opposed  to  ^ix®^ 
in  general,  but  only  to  a  particular  species  of 
/AiA^.  Strictly  speaking,  the  simplest  chant,  or 
even  such  recitative,  as  approaches  the  nearest  to 
common  speech,  is  yet  as  much  /a«a®^,  melody, 
musiCy  as  the  most  refined  Opera  song*.  It  is 
^      called 

'  —  w  A*«'  EIXOAOX  T«  xof8»  nAPOAOI.  Jul,  PolL— 
And  so  the  scholiast  on  Hephaestion :  «t!u  hoMitou  h  w^ajxn 
Tftjy  xofwv  sTTi  TW  axrmy  eia-o^^,   Ed,  de  Patnv,  p.  74. 

•  See  the  1st  vol.  Diss.  II.  p.  78,  note  *,  and  the  pas- 
sage of  Aristoxenus,  concerning  the  essential  distinction 

between 


NOTES.  9 

called  At^K,  X)nly  comparatively.  Nay,  the  word 
f^ix^  is  sometimes,  in  a  wider  sense,  applied  even 
to  speech  itself  ^  And  so,  aHove,  we  have  Xixnitn 
'APMONIA  \  Aristotle,  therefore,  in  the  expres- 
sion x«f»»««>'  MEAIiN,  may  be  supposed,  without 
any  inconsistence,  to  include,  m  hat,  afterwards,  in 
tlie  particular  definition  of  -ra/Jo^T®^,  where  dis- 
tinction was  necessary,  he  denombates  At J«f, 

It  must  be  owned,  that  Aristotle  s  parsimonious 
brevity  has  left  souie  confusion  in  this  subject; 
but,  in  the  illustrations  of  his  commentators,  it  is 
*'  confusion  worse  confounded:'  And  this  ha3 
arisen  from  their  applying  to  the  Greek  drama, 
without  the  slightest  foundation,  the  Roman  divi- 
sion  into^t;e  acts.  It  is  now,  I  believe,  pretty  well 
understood,  that  such  an  idea  is  totally  inappli- 
cable to  the  Greek  Tragedy  \  If  ^e  7nust  talk 
of  acts,  it  would  be  more  proper  to  say  they  hsad 
three ;  forming  our  division  upon  the  three  parts, 
which,  according  to  Aristotle,  were  essential  to 
£very  drama,  the  Ti^oXoy^^  the  ETrao-oAev,  and  the 

_^_^__  E£o^  ; 

httvfetn  ail  speech,  and  all  singing;  i,e,  that  in  the  one, 
the  voice  moves  by  slides,  in  the  other,  by  intervals  or 
ikips, 

'  Vol.  i.  Dissert.  II.  p.  77.  note":  and  Dion.  Hal. 
^''^^  XI.  ,  g  Cap.  4. 

^  Tliis  was  proved  long  ago  in  a  dissertation  by  the 
Abbe  Vatry,  in  the  iiih  vol.  of  the  Mem.  de  P A^ad. 
-^cyj&c— See  also  the  preface  to  Franklin's  Soplio  les. 
—Yet  Lord  Kaims  says,  positively,  of  the  Greek  Tra- 
fcdiev"  there  are  five  acts  in  eaeh/'-^E]  of  Crit.  ii.  4 1  ^ 


'■I 

-  r 
» 


fr  Jt  O  T  B  s. 

I{rf^;   not  upon  the  number  of  <;horal  odes^ 
wbidk  k  (fiferent  in  diSescDi.  dbnnas.     In  lb0 

Trachinice^  for  example,  there  are  not  fewer  than 
Mr  choral  odes.  If  these  are  to  determine  the 
number  of  acts,  as  Dacier  contends,  this  Tragedy 
will  consist  of  seven.  Brumoy,  to  divide  this 
piece  into  five  acts,  is  reduced  to  admit  an  entire 
ode  in  the  middle  of  his  first  act;  so  that  the 
Episode,  which  Aristotle  defines  to  be  that  part 
which  is  jLt£Tafu  oAwv  p^o^ixojv  fxiXuv,  begins  in  the 
UfoXoy^,  and  before  the  Ua^o^^,  which,  accord- 
ing to  Brumoy,  must  be  the  second  ode.  Another 
pde  he  is  obliged  to  admit  in  the  middle  of  his 
last  act;  contrary  to  Anstotle's  definition  of 
Eg«^®». — Dacier  makes  the  prologue  of  the  Oedi^ 
pus  Coloneus  consist  of  700  verses*.  Nothing 
can  be  more  improbable,  or  more  inconsistent  with 
Aristotle's  idea  of  its  purpose.  [See  note  40  *.] 
But  he  was  forced  into  this  absurdity,  only  by  the 
supposed  necessity  of  reducing  the  intervals  be- 
tween the  odes  to  three,  and,  consequently,  the 
acts,  (adding  the  prologue  and  exode,)  to  five. 
For  if  the  true  parode  be  at  v.  11 8,  COj a  •  tk  if 
f!ir ;  X.  T.  aX.)  as  I  doubt  not  it  is,  there  will  then 
be  four  such  intervals,  and,  consequently,  six  acts. 
He  repeats  the  same  mistakes  in  dividing  the 
Phcenissa,  in  which  there  are  five  regular  odes,  as 
in  many  other  of  the  Greek  Tragedies.  In  the 
Oedipus  Tyrarmus  he  makes  the  ode,  Eiwif   lyu 

[  Note  on  Aristot.  p.  177.        *  In  the  ist  volume. 


NOTES,  95 

•^vTK  ttfAi,  (v.  1096,)  come  in  the  middle  of  an 
act ;  and  then,  because  he  chose  to  place  it  so,  is 
forced  to  deny  that  it  was  sung,  though  it  is  in  tl^ 
most  regular  Lyric  form  \ 

The  expression,  nPXlTH  AiJk  oXh  x^(^i  seems 
to  imply,  that  other  choral  parts,  beside  the  Pa- 
rode,  were  also  A«f  *< ;  i.  e.  were  sung  by  the  whole 
chorus  in  the  same  sort  of  chanting  and  simple 
melody.  But  who  will  undertake  to  distinguish 
these  parts,  and  to  tell  us,  exactly,  what  was  Air, 
and  what  Recitative  ?  what  was  sung  by  the  whole 
choir,  and  what  was,  ct  voce  sola^? — I  will  not 
bewilder  my  reader  and  myself  in  a  labyrinth 
without  a  clue. 

The  scholiast  upon  the  Phoenissa  (v.  212.)  savs, 
that  the  lixpoi^  was  sung  by  the  chorus,  "  as 
they  entered  upon  the  stage.'' — IioLpo$(^  $i.  In* 

Tiytt,  trtya,  &c.  And,  indeed,  in  the  example  he 
here  gives  fi-om  the  Orestes,  the  entrance  of  the 
^ ' choral 

*  Remarques  sur  rOedipe,  at  the  end  of  his  translation 
of  that  Tragedy. 

'  The  learned  reader  knows  that  this  cannot  be  deter- 
mined by  their  speaking  of  themselves  in  the  singular 
number,  for  this  they  do  almost  constantly,  in  all  the  Odes. 
So,  EiTff  ETIi  (M^ri;  diM,  just  referred  to,  &c. — ^Nei- 
ther  can  we  say,  what  at  first  view,  indeed,  seems  proba- 
ble, that  whatever  appears  in  the  regular  Lyric  form  of 
Strophe  and  Jntistrophe,  was  air,  as  opposed  to  recitative^ 
or  mere  chant:  for  in  some  Tragedies  the  Tia^o^(^  it^ejf 
is  in  tin's  regular  Lyric  form ;  as,  in  the  Trachinia  and 
Ekftra  of  Sophocles;  Iphig,  in  Jul.  of  Euripides,  &c. 


• 


96  NOTES. 

'dioral  troop  is  dearly  marked   by  what  precedes. 
dElectra  says  -  — 

Aid*  av  riAPEin   TOig  Ifioig  S^vyifiectri 
O/Xa/  svvuSou  -  -  -  V.  132. 

And  this  is  frequently  the  case.  Thus,  in  the 
Phcsnissa,  that  the  Tvf^iov  o*J{a(x,  A»7r»<r' — v.  212,  (not 
KaffA^  i^oXi — V.  651,  as  Dacier  makes  it,)  is  the 
true  ParodCy  as,  indeed,  it  is  expressly  called  by 
the  author  of  the  Greek  argument  prefixed  to  the 
Pers(B  of  JEschylus,  is  confirmed  by  this  passage, 
announcing  tlie  entry  of  the  choral  virgins,  in  the 
preceding  Iambics,  where  the  old  attendant  de- 
sires Antigone  to  retire : — 

0;H^X^  yu^,  ug  rot^ocyfjL^  sliri^xSev  ^tfoXiv, 
XXIPEI    [w  coming]   yvvatKcov  'ir^og  So/A^ng  tu- 
qoLVvtyosg.  v.  206. 

Thus  too,  in  the  Oedipus  Coloneus,  the  first 
appearance  of  the  chorus  is  thus  announced  by 
Antigone : 

r/ya-  nOPEYONTAI  ya^  'XIAE  ^ri  nveg 
Xpovca  TTuXuiOi   -    -   -  tr.  III. 

And  the  ITapocT©^  immediately  follows,  v.  1 1 7. 

In  the  Iphigtnia  in  Tauris,  the  arrival  of  tlief 
choral  women  is  marked  by  themselves : 

Xo. — EMOAON-  Tiveov;  &c.  v.i^j. 

See  also,  v.  65*    Ovrru  -  -  -  -  7rap«(ri>   -    -    -. 

The  Parode  is  not  less  distinctly  marked  ia  the 
MtdeUy    v.   131.    Xo.    ExAuoi^    (p(ayx¥ — x.  t.  «A.  —  in 

'  the 


NOTES.  9, 

the  HeracHdce,  where  the  chorus  is  called  in  by 

lolaus,  v.  69:— in  the  Htlem,  v.  179:— in  the 

Hercules,  v.  107,  &c. 

When  the  attendant  spirit,  in  Com  us,  "  opens 

"  the  business  of  the  drama  to  a  solitary  forest, 
without  an  audience,"  he  does  no  more  than 
Venus  •",  and  the  ghost  of  Polydorus ",  and 
Iphigenia  %  and  many  others,  in  the  Tragedies  of 
Euripides,  had  done  before  him.  The  learned 
and  ingenious  editor  of  Milton's  Occasional 
Poems  says,  that,  ''  in  a  Greek  Tragedy,  this 
*'  objection  would   have    been  obviated    by  the  , 

chorus,  which  was  always  present ;"  but  I  am 
afraid  the  want  of  "  recolkction "  must  be  trans- 
ferred from  Milton  to  himself  p.  There  are  not, 
I  think,  more  than  three  or  four  Greek  Trairedies 
m  which  the  chorus  is  present  from  the  begin- 
ning \ 

This  nscpoS(^,  or  entry  of  the  chorus,  probably 
made  one  of  the  most  splendid  and  popular  parts 
of  the  O^IS,  or  shew,  of  the  antient  Tragedy.  It 
is  mentioned  by  Aristotle,  in  his  Niconmchean 
Ethics,  as  a  custom  of  the  Megarians,  who  were 
a  luxurious  and  ostentatious  people,  to  be  at  the 

expence 


"^  In  the  Hippolytus.         »»  Hecuba. .      °  Iphig.  in  Jul. 

'  Mr.  Warton's  edit,  of  Milton's  Ore.  Poems,  p.  129. 
«*  Milton  did  not  recollect,  that  the  Spirit  was  opening 
*'  the  business  of  the  drama  to  a  solitary  forest^  without 
'*  an  audience.'* 

*!  See  Dacier,  p.  170,  note  5. 
VOL.  ir.  H 


♦r 


98  NOTES. 

e^ence  of  furnishing  purple  dresses  for  the  Xia^oS^ 
even  of  their  comic  stage '.  It  appears,  however, 
from  a  curious  fragment  of  Menander,  to  have 
,  been  a  practice,  not  uncommon  with  the  Greek 
ManagtrSy  to  place  mutes  among  their  choral 
singers,  in  order  to  complete  the  "visible  number 
requisite  : 

-         -         -        -        -        COCTTBO    TCOV  %0^^V 

Ov  TTocvTsg  udacr^y  ocXX  oi(pcovoi  duo  rivsg 

'H  T^etg  TTc^^e^xocG-i,  OANTXIN  EIXATOI, 

Xcopocv  ycocTS'xpfiiv,  ^coa  d*  oig  Ig-tv  jG<©-*. 

------     As  in  a  chorus 

All  do  not  sing,  but,  in  the  Idmlmost  ranks, 
Some  two  or  three  stand  mute  to  make  a  num- 
So  is  it  here ; — ae  serve  to  fill  a  place ;      [her, 
Tkej/  only  live,  who  have  the  7nea?is  of  living. 

NOTE    91. 

P.   134.     The    Stasimon    includes    all 

THOSE      CHORAL      OdES     THAT     ARE     WITHOUT 
ANAPiESTS  AND  TrOCHEES. 

r^o^onH. —  If  we  are  to  understand  this  strictly,  as 
expressing  the  exclusion  of  those  feet  from  the  re- 
gular 

uffTnp  01  Msy a^tiq,  IV.  2.  ed.  Ox,  Wilk, 

■  Mcnand.  and  Philem.  Reliq.  ed,  CUrici,  p.  221. 


NOTES.  99 

gular  odes,  I  cannot  perceive  it  to  be  true.  Dacier, 
therefore,  understands  only,  that  those  feet  were 
very  rarely  used  in  those  Odes,  compared  with 
the  na^o$^^  which  he  calls,   ''  premier  chant  du 
choeur ;''  in  which,   he  says,  and  very  truly,  that 
they  prevail.— ''  Ges  deux  pieds  -  -  -  regnent;'  &c. 
p.  1 79'— It  is  possible  that  Aristotle  might  mean 
this ;  but  it  is  not  what  he  says.     He  says,  "  that 
"  ^lA®^— that  lyric  part,  of  the  chorus,  which  is 
''  xvithout  anapaests  and  trochees:'    I  rather  think, 
he  means  only  those  Odes,  the  regular  stanzas  of 
which  are  not  broken  and  interrupted  by  an  inter- 
mixture  of    anapapstic   or  trochaic   verses  xxrx 
o-un»/*a,  (according  to  the  metrical  language,)  like 
the  Parodos,  as  I  take  it  to  be,  of  the  Antigoiie,— 
AxTKarA»H  —  v.  100.— that  of  the  Philoctetes  — 
Ti  xf^— V.  1 36,  and  of  the  Prometheus  of  .^schy- 
lus.     And   this,    I  believe,   will,   in  general,    be 
found  true  of  the  regular  Odes  subsequent  to  the 
noL^o$^.     For,  in  the  lix^o^^  itself,  the  general 
prevalence  of  the   anapastic    measure   must  be 
evident  to  everyone  who  turns  over  the  Greek 
Tragedians. 

NOTE  92. 

P.  134.    The  Commos,  &c. 

fiSToc   KOMMOT    KAI   'OAOATrHZ"     Tj^rfg-/, 
yon  Koci  <?7i;f^tf — Suidas. 

H  2  The 


loo  NOTES. 

The  phrase,  aVo  (txuvu?,  is  commonly  used  by 
Aristotle  to  denote  the  actors,  as  distinguished  from 
the  chorus;  because,  as  Jul.  Pollux  tells  us, 
IKHNH  ii.iy  TnOKPITXlN  IS^ovy  n*  h  of^^ijrp*  th 
^opa*.  Thus,  Prob.  xlix.  of  Sect,  19,  speaking 
of  the  Dorian  and  liypophryg'um  modes,  he  says, 
they  were  both,  ;^opco  /x£k  oiyot,^iA%^x^  tok  St  ivo 
(rxiiv>i?  oliceiOTtpx  — So,  Prob.  XXX.  and  Prob.  xv.  t« 
ATTo  (Txr.vti?,  (the  dialogue  J  is  opposed  to  ra  t» 
yopn — tlie  cfiorus.  I  was  much  surprised,  there- 
fore, to  find  the  meaning  of  this  phrase  so  widely 
mistaken,  in  the  late  Camb.  edit,  where  aVo 
fl-xtii'ti?  is  thus  explained :  "  id  est,  oin'^^y^ — ad 
choragi  mimus,  non  Poctce,  pertinens  ^" 

An  example  of  the  Koju/[x(^,  pointed  out  by 
Victorius,  may  be  found  in  the  Andromache  of  Eu- 
ripides, V.  1197. 

I  \now  not  why  some  of  the  commentators 
confine  these  joint  lamentations  of  chorus  and 
actors  to  the  Exode,  or  what  they  call  the  last  act. 
They  are  often,  I  think,  to  be  found  in  other  parts 
of  the  drama ;  **  dans  le  coiirs  des  actes,''  as 
Dacier  rightly  observes.  We  iiave  an  example  of 
this   between  Tecmessa  and   the   choiiis,   in  the 

yijasy  V.  yoi .     Iw,  /xoi  [4,01 .     Another  occurs 

very  early  in  tlie  Iphigenia  in  Tauris,  v.  1 43,  &c. 
where  Iphigenia,  assisted  by  the  choral  virgins, 
her  attendants,  performs  the  funereal  libation  to  tlie 

nia?ies 


NOTES..  ,01 

manes  of  h^r  brother,  whom  she  supposes  to  be 
dead,  and  sings  a  funereal  dirge.  The  chorus,  in- 
deed, have  so  small  a  part  in  this  lamentation,  that 
it  may  be  '  thought  hardly  to  answer  Aristotle's 
definition  of  0/)„v(^  Ko^yf^  &c.  Eut  this,  in  fact, 
seems  no  objection,  because  the  lamentation  of 
Iphigenia  is  broken  off  abruptly,  as  Mr.  Markland 
has  well  observed,  at  v.  235,  by  the  arrival  of  the 
shepherd.  I  consider  it,  therefore,  only  as  an  un- 
finished Ko/x^0*.  But,  that  it  answers  to  that 
idea,  appears,  I  think,  from  the  whole  cast  of 
it;  from  the  frequent  occurrence  of  the  inter- 
jections, <piv,  <ptv—i,  i—ocl,  ul—ol  fAoi,  &c.— and  of 
the  very  word,  ipnyi^,  throughout  ^  and,  from  the 
answer  of  the  chorus  : 

Xof.— ANTITAAMOTS   c^^xg 
Tfivov  T  Aa-iTjTuv  croi 

Aea-TToivu  y  e^ocvScc(ra),  j 

Txv  \v  ePHNOIZ:i  fjL^(rxv 
'Nbkvg-i  f/^eXBov'^,  v.  1-8. 

To  thee  thy  faithful  train 

The  Asiatic  hymn  will  raise, 
A  doleful,  a  barbaric  strain, 
Responsive  to  thy  lays, 

And 


•  IV.  19. 


*»  Ed.  Cantab,  1785,  p.  125. 


ilg  Q^Yjvoti  kyxsifjuxi,  v.  143. 

^  *'  Mortals  miseram:'    "  Quid  hoc  sii,  nescio,"  sayg 
Mr.  Markland,     But,   perhaps,   it   should  be  rendered, 

H  3  "  Mortuis 


fit 


III 


It* 


I02  NOTES. 

And  steep  in  tears  the  mournful  song, 
Notes  which  to  the  dead  belong ; 
Dismal  notes  attun'd  to  woe 
By  Pluto  in  the  realms  below. 

Potter's  Eurip,  v.  206. 
NOTE    93. 

P«   '35«      This  raises    disgust,    rather 

THAN  TERROR  OR  COMPASSION. 

Literally, — "  for   this   is   ntitker  terrible^  nor 

piteOUSy  but   shocking.'"      «    ya/>    ^o^i^ov^  nh    iXnwoy" 

ruTOy  ocXKx  /txtapov  s'ni'. — But  we  certainly  must  not 
understand  Aristotle  to  assert,  that  no  pity  is  excited 
by  the  sufferings  of  an  exemplary  character.  This 
would  be  directly  contrary  to  his  own  account  of 
pity  :  EXf(^  /u£y,  Trip*  toi^  avajiok  *.  He  must  mean 
only,  that  they  are  r^/Aer  shocking,  than  affecting; 
as  it  is  well  rendered  by  Piccolomini  ;  "  un  cosi 
"  fatto  caso  non  h^,  nh  del  terrible,  (per  dir  cost  J 
"  ne  del  compassionevole ;  ma  piii  iosto  \\\  dell' 
"  abominevole,  e  dello  scellerato."     That  is,  as 

this 

*'  JMortuis  vananiy  inutileniy'  in  the  Homeric  sense  of 
fiiXE^,  See  II.  ^.  795 — /tt£>£®-  ax»®- — useless,  unavailing 
praise.  So,  in  Virgil — '*  inani  muncrc.*'  JEn»  vi.  886. — 
And^  ^n.  xi.  51. 

Sos 'y.ivt^nem  exanimum  -  •  - 

-  -   -  vano  inoes  i  comitamur  honore, 

Me?^©-— MATAIOS.  Sui'j.  and  Hesyc/i.—So,  Apoll. 
Rhod.  i.  1249.  MEAEH  os  01  e^aeto  ^wvrj. — '*  Fanus  ei 
erat  clamor," 


*  And  sec  Rhet.ll.  8. 


NOTES.  103 

this  clear  and    exact,  though  prolix,  writer    has 
explained    it    in    his   subsequent    annotation,  — 
*'  quello   affetto  dell'  odio  e  delf  abominatione, 
''  sopravaiiza  in  modo  laffetto  del  timore,  e  quel 
**  della  compassione,  che  gli  ricuoprCy  e  gli  asconde^ 
"  e  supo^a,  in  modo  che  quasi  non  si  fan  sentire.** 
Miapok — shocking,  disgusting,  &c.  because  con- 
trary to  our  established   ideas  of  justice,  and  to 
every  moral  sentiment  of  our  nature.     History, 
indeed,  must  reprQ;5ent  facts  as  they  are;  ^^ithout 
any  regard  to   the  sentiments   they   may  excite. 
But  the  case  is  far  otherwise  with  tlie  fictions  of 
the  Poet.     We  think  he  ought  not  to  make  such  a 
representation  of  things^.    We  consider  it  as  dis^ 
couraging  to  virtue,  as  immora!, — even,  in  some 
degree,  as  irreligious.     What  reader  of  Clarissa 
does  not  find  the  pity,   the  pleasurable   pity,   at 
least,  which  it, is  the  object  of  such  a  work  to 
excite,  frequently  counteracted,  and  diminished,  to 
say  no.  more,  by  some  indignant  feelings  of  this 
kind?  Tlie  story  of  Sidney  Biddulph,   though   a 
work   of  considerable  merit  in  the  execution,  is 
liable  to   tiie   sauie   objection.     The   mind  of  a 
reader  is  harrassed  and  revolted  throughout  by  the 
most  Improbable  an.d  dtt^rmined  perverseness  of 

unfortunate 


^  "  Cum  historia  vera  successus  rerum  minime  pro 
"  mentis  virtutum  et  scelerum  narret ;  corrigit  earn 
»*  Poesis,  «t  exitus  et  fonunas,  secundum  merita,  et  ex 
'*  lege  Nemescos,  exhibet.'* 

Bacon,  De  Aug,  Sx,  lib,  ii.  c.  13. 

H  4 


104  NOTES. 

unfortunate  combinations;  and  shocked,  at  last, 
by  the  wanton  production  of  misery,  neither  de- 
served,  nor  likely.— Ou    (pojSipov,    aVf    iXmyov    thto, 

axxx  i4,ia(0¥.  Fontenelle  says,  in  perfect  confor- 
mity with  Aristotle,  "  Plus  le  heros  est  aim6,  plus 
"  il  est  convenable  de  le  rendre  heureux  k  la  fin. 
"  II  ne  faut  point  renvoyer  le  spectatcur  avec  la 
"  douleur  de  plaindre  la  destinte  d  un  homme 
"  verteux."     Reflex,  sur  la  Poet.  Sect.  52. 

To  do  justice  to  the  author's  meaning,  two  other 
things  should  be  kept  in  mind  :  1 .  That,  by  his 
iV»f<xuf,  he  here  means  a  character  of  consummate 
virtue,  whose  misfortunes  were  not  drawn  upon 
him  by  arijj  fault  of  his  own.  This  is  evident  from 
what  follows.  The  sense  of  the  word  is  sufficiently 
fixed  by  its  opposite,  2*OAPA  ttovtj^oi^,  as  well  as 
by  the  equivalent  expression,  a^fT»?  AIA^EPflN  xai 
^ixai«(rukt?,  in  his  dqs' ription  of  ttie /?r(y/>c7'  character 
for  Tragedy  ^  2.  That  he  presently  afterwards 
softens  a  little  die  rigour  of  his  precept  as  here 
delivered,  by  saying,  that  the  character  should  be  ^ 
either  such  as  he  had  prescribed,  "or  better  rather 

than  worse  ;"    ^iXnoy^  /xaAAo^  i!  ;^«f o^O*. 

NOTE    94. 

P-  ^35-     For  it  is  neither  GRATirrtNo 

IN  A  MORAL  VIEW,  &C. 

OuTf  yao  0IAAN0PnnGN  — .    Without  entering 
into  a  long  discussion  of  all  that  has  been  urged 

. . __^y 

*  For  Aristoile*s  account  of  i^tfuaxa,  the  reader  may 
consult  Eth,  Nicom.  V.  10.  ej.  fVilk. 


NOTES.  105 

by  the  commentators  in  favour  of  the  different 
senses  they  have  assign^:d  to  the  word  ^»Aak6^«^ov 
here,  I  shall  only  say,  that,  upon  the  most  atten- 
tive comparison  of  tliis  passage  with  another,  in 
cap.  xviii  where  tl  e  term  again  occurs,  it  appears 
to  me,  that  the  full  meaning  of  it  is,  gratifying  to 
philanthropii ;  pleasing  by  its  conformity  to  our 
natural  sen^e   of  ju.stice,   by  its  moral  tendency. 
Indeed  this  seems  to  follow  from  the  word  fAKkogy^ 
to  which  ^iXxud^uTTou  is  opposed.     The  represen- 
tation of  a  g(K)d  man  {iTsneixnq)  made  miserable  is 
[Aixfcv— disgusting,  shocking.     Why  ?  Plainly,  on 
account  of  its  evident  injustice,  and  immoral  ten- 
dency.    The   representation  of  a  very  bad  man 
{(Tpo^poc  zrovnpt^)  punished    by  calamity,   is   ^tXa». 
ipuTToy ;—  that  is,   pleasing  to  the  spectator,  on  the 
same  principle,  from  its  opposite  tendency. 

A  singular,  but  somewhat  similar,  use  is  made 
of  the  same  word  in  Plutarch's  dialogue  zrifn 
Mnirixn; ;  where,  speaking  of  the  wicked  innovations 
of  the  more  modern  musicians,  Timotheus,  Phi- 
s  loxenus,  &c.  he  says  of  them — (piXoxaapoi  yiyom(n. 
Toy  ^IAAN0PXiIION  xat  fif/utaxixoy  NTN  'ONO- 
MAZOMENON  ^lu^otyni.  M.  Uurette's  note  upon 
this  is  perfectly  unsatisfactory  *.     I  l)elive  we  shoud 

read — ^^TO  (piXayipuTroy  KXi  0EATPIKON— x.T.aA. — 

i.  e.  "  bemg  lovers  of  novelty,  they  affect  v^hat  is 
"  now  termed  the  pleasing  and  theatrical  style." 
The 

*  Mem.  de  I'Acad.  dcs  Inscrip.  vol.  xix.  p.  325,  oct,ed. 
— ^In  H.  Stephens's  cd.  of  Plut.  p.  2080. 


X 


io6  NOTES. 

The  TheatrCy  we  know,  was  considered  by  the 
purists  of  that  time,  as  the  great  source  of  corrup- 
tion in  jVIusic.  The  reader  may  see  how  Plutarch 
rails,  on  tliis  subject,  p.  2081,  and  2089 ;  where  he 

laments — -TravTaf    tk?    ^acixnf     aTrrofAiyHi    Trpo^    ruk 

©EATPIKHN  'jrpQ<rxi^u}firi}iHfoci  fXHaroiy. — It  appears, 
from  his  expression,  NTN  ovo/xa^o/xivov,  that  this 
was  a  new  and  fashionable  use  of  the  word  ^iXav- 
ipuiirov ;  which,  from  the  sense  of  pleasing  to  natural 
benevolence,  (as  in  the  passage  of  Aristotle),  seems 
to  have  been  extended  to  signify,  what  waspkasing^ 
and  grateful,  to  the  popular  taste,  in  general;  in 
opposition  to  those  more  chaste  and  severe  pro- 
ductions of  tlie  artist,  which  aimed  only  at  the  gra- 
tification of  the  critical,  and  the  learned.  And, 
indeed,  no  sort  of  philanthropy  is  more  common, 
in  all  times,  and  in  every  art,  than  that  of  accom- 
modation to  the  public  taste. 

NOTE  95. 

P.  136.  Ouil  TERROR,  BT  SOME  RESEM- 
BLANCE BETWEEN  THE  SUFFERER  AND  OUR- 
SELVES. 

Thus,  in  the  Rhetoric,  it  is  recommended  to  tlu.' 
Orator,  as  one  method  of  exciting  terror  in  his 

hearers,   mg  'CMOIOTD   inxvuyaci   TratrxoyTOcg,   V  vi- 

TToviorocg  *.  Aristotlc's  doctrine  concernin<j  the 
importance  of  this  resemblance  to  ourselves  in  the 

object 

-■'     ■  ■  —  _   . 1 

'11.  5. 


NOTES  X07 

object  of  the  passion  bo  be  excited,  and  the  extent 
he  gives  to  the  word  ofxo^og,  may  be  seen  in  the 
passages  of  liis  Rhetoric  referred  to  in  the  margin  \ 
The    resemblance,     however,    here    particularly 
meant,  is  undoubtedly  resemblance  of  character. 
This  is  well  explained  by  M.  BaUeux  in  few  words ; 
''  Un  crime  atroce,  un  horreur  de  scekrat,  revoke 
"  le  spectateur,  et  par  cette  revolte  m^me,  le  ras- 
''  sure  contre  la  crainte ;  parcequ'il  se  sent  aussi 
''eloign^    du   malheur,    qu'il    lest    du   crime." 
[Quatre  Poetiques,  torn.  i.  p.  307.]     Or,  as  it  is 
more  fully  developed   by   Piccolomini,  "  Ripu- 
''  tando,    per  il  piu,  gF  uomini  se  stessi  buoni, 
''  o  almeno  non  cattivi,  ed  in  somma,  non  decani 
**  di  male ;  e,  per  conseguente,  dissimili  a  quelle 
''  persone  inique,  in  cui  veggon  il  male,  e  in  questo 
"  differenti  da  esse,  che  elle  lo  meritano,  ed  essi 
**  non  lo  meritano :  non  vengon'  a  dubitar  di  ca- 
"  dere  in  tai  mali,  e,  conseguentemente,   non  ne 
**  nasce  timore  in  loro."  p,  194. 

NOTE  96. 

P.  136.  Nor  yet  involved  in  misfor- 
tune BY  DELIBERATE  VICE,  OR  VILLANY  ; 
BUT   BY  SOME  ERROR  OF  HUMAN   FRAILTY. 

MuTt  ii»  Kotxtoiv  xai  fMo^in^ixp  fji.tr okfi^XXm  ug  my 
^Vfv^iotv,  aAAa  ^i*  dfxoc^Tittv  t*kx .    Thus,  in  the 

Ethic,  NicovL  V.  10.  p.  69.  he  uses  fjf'op^hpia,  and 

^  Ubi  supra.  Cap,  viii.  p.  559,  Er—Cap,  x.  init. 


li- 


108  NOTES, 

xaxta,  as  synonymous  :  and,  VII.  9 ;  where  he 
says  of  i^ox^np^oc,  that  it  is  2TNEXHS  Trom^ia— 
a  vitious  character,  disposition,  habit,  &c.— It 
also  implies  deliberate  choice  and  intention, 
( —  orot,y  h  U  TiTfoai^Kriwf,  i^o)(finpia,  V.  8.)  in  Oppo- 
sition to  iixxprixy  which  excludes  irfoacipio-ii,  and  is 
«nu  KAKIA2.   fibidj 

To  understand  rightly  what  the  philosopher 
says  in  this  part  of  his  work  on  Poetry,  and  espe- 
cially his  application  of  his  doctrine  to  such  cha- 
racters as  Oedipus  and  Thyestes,  we  ought  carefully 
to  take  his  own  sense  of  his  own  words.  For  want 
of  this,  Dacicr  *  confounds  himself  and  his  readers 
in  his  note  about  Thyestes.  He  mistakes  Aristotle's 
sense  of  a^aprta.  Dacier's  ''  involontaire'''  in- 
cludes 


•*  '*•• 


t< 


(C 


•  A  fine  writer,  M.  Marmontel,  has  fallen  into  this  ajid 
several  other  mistakes,  by  following  Dacier  and  other 
translators,  (for  we  are  none  of  us  to  be  depended  on,) 
instead  of  taking  the  meaning  of  Aristotle  from  Aristotle 
himself.-— See  his  Poetique  Frangoise,  torn.  ii.  p.  109, 
where  he  adopts  Dacier^s  "  involontairer  In  another 
place  he  says,  <^  Dans  Sophocle,  Oedipe  voyant  arriver  les 
enfans  qu'il  a  eu  de  sa  mere,  il  leur  tend  les  bras  et  Icur 

dit :  approche%,  embrassez  votre //  rCachrut  pas,  ct 

"  le  sublime  est  dans  la  reticence:'  Now  the  fact  is,  that 
this  reticence  is  solely  the  property  of  the  good  father 
Brumoy,  with  respect  to  whom  we  may  apply  to  M.  Mar- 
montel the  words  of  Aristtde,  quoted  below,— a^i*^  (azv 
««  In,  a^iKU  h.  Brumoy  translates — **  approchez,  et  em- 
*'  brassez  votre frere,"  ^c.^Sophocles  wrote^ 

------     hv^  tr,  ixhrE 


NOTES.  109 

eludes  both  dycHo-iov,  and  dv^oPuXivrov,  which  Aris- 
totle distinguishes;  his  a/xaprn/Aara  beinor  not 
involuntaii/,  but  only,  not  W  wpoaipsc-iug.  See  the 
whole  cap.  x.  of  lib.  5,  as  above.  One  passage, 
in  cap.  ix.  of  lib.  7,  will  particularly  illustrate 
Aristotle's  examples.  'Ot  AKPATEID  (such  were 
Oedipus  and  Thyestes,  men  of  ungovernable  pas- 
sion,) AAIKOI  |U£v  «x  iltn,  (i.  e,  are  not  urijiist 
men—not  xaxoi,  fAox^n^oi,  of  bad  dispositions,  &c.) 
AAIK0T2I  ^f — yet  they  commit  transient  and  oc- 
casional wrong,  ^i«  Trafl®*,  as  he  says  elsewhere  ^ 

The  objections  made  by  Comeille,  Fontenelle, 
and  other  critics,  to  such  subjects  as  that  of  the 
Oedipus,  which  they  hold  to  be  improper  for 
Tragedy  on  account  of  the  supposed  fatality  of 
the  crimes  committed,  are  well  and  solidly  an- 
swered in  an  excellent  note  of  the  Abbe  Battcux 
upon  this  passage. 

NOTE  97. 
P.   137-     Upon   the   stage   and  in  the 

DRAMATIC    CONTESTS. 

— Ein  rcav  (rxrivuu  xoit  tcov  dyuiyusp — i.e.  merely,  in 

the  representation.  There  seems  to  be  no  more 
foundation  for  the  distinction  which  Dacier  here 
supposes,  between  <rx»jkD,  and  dym,  than  for  the 
same  distinction  between  aywi/,  and  uVojc/JiTa*,  in  the 
similar  expression,  ay«i/0>  xa*  uwoxptTwy,  in  cap.  vi. 


VII.  2.  p.  86. 


110 


NOTES. 


NOTE  gS." 

p.  137.     Euripides  -  -  -  the  most  tragic 
OF  ALL  Poets. 

—More,  however,  it  has  been  observed,  with  re- 
spect to  the  emotion  of  pity,  than  that  of  terror. 
And ^50,  Quintiliao  :  '^  In  affectibus  cum  omni- 
"  bus  minis,  turn  in  iis  qui  miseratione  con- 
"  stant,  facile  prcBcipuus*'  [lib,  x.  c.  1 .]  Yet  the 
powers  of  this  admirable,  though  unequal,  genius, 
were  by  no  means  confined  to  emotions  of  ten- 
derness and  pity.  He,  too,  as  one  of  "  Nature's 
darlings,^'  possessed  that  *'  golden  key,'  which 
can  not  only  "  ope  the  sacred  source  of  sympa- 
thetic tears,'  but  can  "  unlock''  also,  and  at 
the  same  time,  the  "  gates  of  horror,''  and  of 
*'  thrilling  fears."  As  proofs  of  this,  I  am 
tempted  to  produce  two  passages  of  this  Poet, 
which  I  could  never  read  without  shuddering. 

In  that  scene  between  Medea  and  Jason,  in^ 
which,  previous  to  the  execution  of  her  horrid 
vengeance,  she  deludes  him  with  feigned  recon- 
ciliation and  submission,  when  Jason,  addressing 
the  children,  says, 

— Medea 


ft    n 


O  may  I  see  you  blooming  in  the  prime 
**  Of  manhood,  and  to  every  virtue  traiuM, 
*'  Superior  to  my  tors  !  " 

[Mr,  Potter'f  Transl.  v.  989.] 


NOTES.  in 

— Medea  turns  away  her  face  and  weeps :  and 
when  Jason  asks  the  reason  of  her  tears,  she  an- 
swers, 

''  And  wjby,"  says  Jason  again,  ''  lament  thus 
'*  over  these  children? "—Medea,  then,  knoM'inc^, 
but  veiling  in  ambiguity,  her  dreadful  purpose  of 
destroying  ttiem,  replies, 

EriiCTOif  avTug- — ZHN  A'  'OT'  'ESHTXOT 
TEKNA, 

^      EIZHA0E  M'  OIKTOr,   EI    TENHSETAI 
TA AE  !  ^.  93^. 

"  I  am  their  mother: — when  thy  wish  was  breath'd 
"  That  they  might  live,  a  piteous  thought  arose, 
''  If  that  might  be!" 

Potter* s  Eur'ip.  v.  I  Goo. 

The  other  passage  is  in  the  Elcctra.  In  the 
fine  scene  between  Orestes  and  Electra,  imme- 
diately after  the  murder  of  their  mother,  Orestes 
asks  his  sister, 

KaT6/de^  oiov  a  rocXuiv  buv  TrtTrXcov 

EpaXev,  6(Ji*|e,  (jloc^ov  Iv  (povocig ; —      v,  1206. 

Mark'd  you  not,  how  my  mother,  ere  I  struck  her, 
Withdrew  hei'  robe,  and  to  our  view  expos'd 

The  breast  that  nourished  us  *" ! 

'        I  know 

*>  **  Nothing : — I  was  but  thinking  of  my  sons." 
^  The  excellent  translator  of  Euripides  will  pardon 
my  having  recourse  here  to  a  version  of  my  owd,  merely 

for 


If  3 


III  NOTES. 

s 

I  know  not  what  nnore  can  be  said  to  the  praise 
of  Euripides,  tlian,  that  no  one,  I  believe,  can 
read  tliis  scene  without  being  reminded  of  the 
Macbeth  of  Shakspeare. 

NOTE  99. 
P.    137.      That    which    is    of  a  double 

CONSTRUCTION,  AND  ALSO  ENDS  IN  TWO  OP- 
POSITE EVENTS,  TO  THE  GOOD,  AND  TO  THE 
BAD,  CHARACTERS. 

STSTASIZ,  i'"  2T2TA2IN  Ix^troL—i. e."That 
"  construction  which  has  a  double  construction.'' 
— Can  this  be  as  the  author  left  it?  I  cannot 
but  suspect  the  Jirst  a-vram  to  be  an  interpolation. 
Without  it,   all  will  go  on    well. — 'H   (Aty    iy — 

xaAAif*)  TfaywJia  Ix,  rccvrfi^  mf  (rvcTao-fWf  £n.  -  -  - 
-  -  -  AtVTi^x  ^e,  [SC.  T^ayw^ia,]  if  Trpurn  XiyofAtyy^ 
MTTO   7iyQ3v  lo  *   iJ  ^iTrXfiy    T£    Tr,y    (Twrafriv  ^X^^^f — *'** 

TlXiVTCOffOC,    &C. 

The  particle,  TE,  here,  is  neglected  by  most  of 
the  comnnientators  and  translators,  who,  accord- 
ingly, of  two  distinct  things  make  one  only ;  un- 
derstanding Aristotle,  by  his  inrXti  <rura<rif,  to  mean 
only  a  fable  that  has  a  double  catastrophe,  ending 
oppositely  to  opposite  cliaracters.  But  the  ex- 
pression 

for  the  sake  of  pointing  out  more  distinctly  to  the  EttgUsh 
reader  that  particular  circumstance  of  the  original,  which 
strikes  me  most.     Mr.  Potter's  lines  are, 

"  Didst  thou  sec  her,  when  she  drew 

^  Her  vests  aside,  and  bared  her  breasts —  v.  1338. 


u 


NOTES.  113 

pression  is,  "  that  has  both  a  double  construction^ 
*'  and   a  double   catastrophe''     ^iirXfiy    TE    tw 

^rxviy.      KAI  rtXiVTuxrot — x.  t.  aA.      We  must  not, 

however,  confound  this  double  construction  with 
duplicity  of  action,  and  what  we  call  double  plots. 
I  believe  Castelvetro,  who  did  not  let  the  t«  escape 
him,  has  explained  it  rightly.     "  Dice,  che  questa 
''  constitutione  di  favola  h  doppia,  percioche  ha 
due  maniere  di  persone.  Tuna  di  buone,  o  dl 
*'  mezzanc,  e  Taltra  di  scelerate."  (p.  293.)    Aa 
explanation   that  will    come  still   better   recom- 
mended to  the  reader  by  the  coincident  opinion  ^ 
of  the  learned  and  accurate  author  of  Critical 
Observations  on  Books,  antient  and  modern ;  who 
has  given  the  following  explanatory  version  of  this 
passage ' :  **  That  constitution  of  an  Epic  tale  ^ 
which  is  reckoned  the  first  by  some,  is  in  reality 
but  the  second  in  point  of  excellence,  namely, 
that  which,  like  the  Odyssey,  has  a  double  set  of 
**  characters,  one  virtuous,  and  one  vitious,  and 
"  wherein  the  action  also  ends  contrarywise  to  tlie 
virtuous  and  vitious  agents,  so  that  the  former 
terminate  in  prosperity,  and  the  latter  in  adver- 
sity."— These  two  things,  though  closely  con- 
nected, are  evidently  distinct.     There  mav  be  a 

double 

'  '    "      ■^^—1    ■■IN    ■■      ■         II  II         ■         II      I  I        .       ■  I  I  ^  ,1 

•  Number  I.  p.  3. 

**  I  do  not  see  the  learned  writer's  reason  for  inserting 
the  word  Epic,  Aristode  is  here  plainly  speaking  of  tlie 
Tragic  fable,  though  he  draws  his  illustration,  indeed, 
from  an  Epic  Poem* 

VOL,  lU  1 


<i 


u 


u 


« 


n 


t< 


'■■*- 


114  NOT    E    S. 

double  set  of  characters,  where  yet  there  is  no 
contrariety  of  catastrophe,  but  all  ends  well  to  alL 
- — Such  a  fable,  as  Aristotle  describes,  though  a 
very  different  thing  from  our  pbt  and  imder-ploty 
yet,  as  it  consists  of  opposite  characters,  opposite 
interests,  and  opposite  events,  may  well  enough 
be  considered  as  of  a  double  construction — Ji^Arjc 
<7ura(r£«f.  Unity  of  action,  indeed,  upon  Aristotle's 
principles,  was  essential  both  to  the  single  and  to 
the  double  fable ;  y^t  that  unity  admits  of  degrees, 
and  the  double  fable  was  less  strict  It/  one  action 
than  the  single.  The  single  fable  might  be  com- 
pared to  a  single  stream :  the  plot  and  under-plot, 
to  two  separate,  though  contiguous,  and  now  and 
then  interminghng,  streams:  Aristotle's  fable  of 
double  construction,  to  two  opposite  collateral 
currents,  (if  such  a  thing  may  be  imagined,)  in 
the  same  channel. 


NOTE  100. 
P.  138.     This  kind  of  pleasure  is   not 

THE     PROPER     PLEASURE      OF     TrAGEDY,     BUT 
BELONGS    RATHER    TO    CoMEDY,    &C. 

What  is  the  proper  pleasure  to  be  expected 
from  Tragedy,  we  have  already  been  told,  and 
w'e  are  told  again,  more  plainly,  if  possible,  in  tlie 
next  chapter.  It  is — »?  aVo  lXl^  xoti  ^oPa  *HAONH: 
"the  pleasure  that- arises  from  pity  and  terror*." 

Tb# 


«M 


Transl.  Sect.  13, 


NOTES.  11^ 

The  double  fable  Aristotle  seems  to  liave  con- 
sidered as  not  giving  this  pleasure,  or  at  least,  as 
giving  it  weakly  and  imperfectly,  because  all  th« 
imhappiness  of  the  catastrophe  falls  on  the  odious 
cliaracters^  the  v^o$^a,  trovv^ng.     In  the  room  of 
this  pleasure,  which  Tragedy  ought  to  give,  th« 
double  fable  substitutes  that  of  a  satisfactory  con- 
clusion;    a   catastrophe    accommodated   to    the 
wishes  of  the  spectator.     But  this,  says  Aristotle, 
is  a  pleasure  that  rather  belongs  to  Comedy  than 
to  Tragedy:  MAAAON  mg  xw/xwJ^iac  crxaa.     For 
he  k  not  here  rejecting  this  double  plan,  but  only 
shewing  why  it  is  not,  as  some  held  it  to  be,  th« 
best,  TT^uirn.     Such  Tragedies,  he  says,   afford  a 
pleasure   of  the  same  kind,  at  least,  with  that 
which  Comedy  affords;  though  Comedy  indeed 
goes  farther i  for  there,  all  must  end  well;  ene- 
mies,  as  inveterate    as   Orestes  and   iEgisthus, 
must  shake  hands  at  last,  and  the  spectator  must 
be  dismis$cd  with  no  impression  upon  his  mind, 
but  that  of  pure  and  unmixed  pleasure. 

If  we  understand  the  passage  in  this  way,  it 
will  not,  I  tliink,  be  necessary  to  suppose,  what, 
I  own,  I  was  once  much  inclined  to  suppose  with 
Heinsius,  that  the  text  is  defective ;  and  that,  after 
the  word  iixrixi;,  Aristotle  had,  originally,  men- 
tioned the  third  and  worst  kind  of  fable,  termi- 
nating  in  a  happy  event  to  all  the  characters ;  to 
which,  and  not  to  the  second  species,  what  follows 
about  Comedy  was  meant  to  be  applied.  Very 
-  1 2  specious 


V; 


hi  > 


.In 


m 


r 


U6  N    O    T    £    S. 

specious  reasons  might  certainly  be  produced  in 
support  of  such  a  conjecture,  if  it  were  necessary* 
'  But  we  have  no  encouragement  from  MSS.  to 
suspect  any  omission,  and  the  passage,  as  her© 
explained,  seems  to  have  little,  or  no,  difficulty. 
The  chief  objection  is,  that  what  is  here  said  of 
Comedy  is  not  applicable  to  the  double  Tragic 
fable,  in  which  there  is  no  reconciliation  of  ene- 
mies ^  &c.  But  it  was  not,  I  think,  intended  to 
be  so  closely  applicable.  All  that  Aristotle  meant 
must  have  been,  to  shew,. that  the  pleasure  arising 
from  his  second  species  of  fable,  differed  only  in 
degree  from  that  of  Comedy;  that  the  circum- 
stance of  ending  satisfactorily  was  common  to 
both  *. 

Chancers  Monk  had  the  true  Aristotellc  idea 
of  Tragedy : — 

Tragedie  is  to  sayn  a  certain  storie, 

As  olde  bookes  maken  u$  memorie, 

Of  him  that  stood  in  gret  prosperitee. 

And  is  yfalkn  out  of  high  degree 

In  to  miser ie,  and  endeth  wretchedly^,     p 

^  See  rfie  note  of  Heinsius.  —  Castelvetro  supposes 
Aristotle  to  be  answering  a  tacit  objection — *'  Why  not 
"  a  happy  termination  for  all  the  characters,  good  and 
"  bad?"  p.  294. 

*  The  author  of  one  of  the  arguments  to  the  Oresies 
of  Euripides,  says,  to  ^t  ^^sLfjux  KHMIKXITEPAN  fpc"  '^^ 

'  Canterbury  Tales,  v.  13979.  Mr.  Tyrwhitt's  ed.— 
Chaucer,  however,  uses  the  word  Tra^^dy  in  a  loose 

sense 


NOTES.  i,;p 

But  the  knight,  and  the  host,  were  among  tlie 
^toLTxi  A20ENEI2: 

Ho !  quod  the  knight,  good  sire,  no  more  of  this; 

That  ye  ban  said  is  right  ynough  ywis. 

And  mochel  more ;  for  litel  hevinesse 

Is  right  ynough  to  mochel  folk,  I  gesse. 

I  say  for  me,  it  is  a  gret  disesey  [uneasiness] 

Wher  as  men  have  ben  in  gret  welth  and  ese. 

To  heren  of  hir  soden  fall,  alas ! 

And  the  contrary  is  joye  and  gret  solas. 

As  whan  a  man  hath  ben  in  poure  estate, 

And  climbeth  up,  and  wexeth  fortunat, 

And  ther  abideth  in  prosperitee : 

Swiche  thing  is  gladsom,  as  it  thinketh  me. 

And  of  swiche  thing  were  goodly  for  to  telle  \ 

NOTE    101. 

p.  139.     Who  make  use  of  the  decora- 
tion TO  produce,    not  the  terrible,  but 

THE    MARVELLOUS    ONLY ^ 

One  would  think,  that  commentators  on  Aris- 
totle might  find  enough  in  this  work  to  satisfy  the 

keenest 

-^^— — — — ^  

sense,  (as  Dr.  Burney  has  observed.  Hist,  of  Mus.  vol.  ii. 
p.  320.)  for  a  tragical  story.  And  for  this  he  seems  to 
have  Plato's  authority :— t«j  te  TPATIKHS  srojixrew; 
aTrrofMiVHf,  h  lafASsioig,  KAI  EN  EIIESr.  R^p,  x.— And  so 
presently  after,--'OMHPOT,  h  nat  a?0^  nv®-  TON  TPA- 
rXlfAlOnOmN :  and  he  calls  Homer  ^urov  t«v  Tfay»- 
^OTom,     See,  also,  p.  152,  E.  et^.  Serr.  vol,  u 

t  V.  147  73>  &«• 
I3 


m 

Hi**. 


.I'l 


I*! 


t 


ii8  K    O    T    E    S. 

keenest  appetite  for  difficulties,  without  anv  assist* 
ance  from  tneir  own  invention.  Yet  here,  they 
have  contrived  to  perplex  one  of  the  plainest 
passages  that  can  be  found.  Nothing  can  well 
be  clearer  than  Aristotle's  expression: — oi  ^t  MH 

TO  ^OBEPON,  J'kx  TTjf  •vf/fwf,  aAXa  TO  TKPATH- 
AE2     MONON,     Tr(x^x(rxivocl^ovrc<;. —  He    IS    not,    a5 

some  critics  have  supposed',  examining  here 
three  different  ways  of  raising  terrdr,  but  two 
only; — by  the  plot  itself,  which  he  justly  pro- 
nounces to  be  the  best  way,  and  by  the  ^^n;,  the 
spectacle,  scenes,  dresses,  &c.  As  for  those  Poets, 
he  continues,  w^ho  make  use  of  the  ©iJ/k,  for  the 
purpose  of  exciting,  not  terror,  but  xoonder  onlijj 
they  are  out  of  the  question ;  this  "  has  nothing 
**  to  do  with  Tragedy^''  &c-  If  Aristotle,  by 
Ts^aTojJ'ic,  had.  meant  only,  as  has  been  understood, 
a  monstrous  degree  of  the  terrible — "  mostruosOy 
^'  soprano  spavaitOy'  as  Castelvetro  calls  it  ^  he 
surely  would  not  have  used  so  strong  an  expres- 
sion as— OTAEN  T»j  T^ayy^i»  KOINHNOTSIN. 
He  does  not  here  exclude  even  the  n^xTUihq,  ab- 
solutely, and  m  general;  but  ih,Q  mere  ti^xTt^h^'y 
n^oLTUiSiT  MONON — "  only  the  wonderful;"  and 
that,  (f*«  T*ij  oj'swc  The  marvellous  and  super- 
natural, may,  we  know,  in  the  hands  of  a  Poet  of 
genius,  be  made  a  powerful  instrument  of  Tragic 

tenor, 

*  Robonelli,  Castelvetro,  Piccolomini,  Beni. 

*  p.  298.  M.  Batteux  follows  this  interpretation;    He 
translates  Tf^araJf^^  *'  eff'rajuntr 


N    O    T    E    S.  119 

terror.  Aristotle  would  hardly,  I  imagine,  have 
censured  a  drama  like  that  of  Macbeth,  as  havincr 
"  nothing  in  common  with  Tragedy'' 

The  difficulty,  indeed,  of  managing  the  visible 
n^arcahq^  SO  as  to  produce  any  serious  effect,  is 
sufficiently  great.  We  have,  I  think,  but  one 
dramatic  Poet  who  could  walk,  though  others 
may  have  dared  to  walk,  "  within  that  circle.'* 
The  decoration  of  the  Eumenides  of  ^schylus, 
and  his  chorus  oi  fifty  furies,  with  their  /Auy/^o*, 
and  their  wyjtAoI^,  their  snorings^  their  screams, 
and  their  torches,  may  very  well  be  conceived  to 
have  put  women  and  children  in  a  real  fright ; 
but  whether  it  produced  any  sympathetic,  illusive, 
and  pleasurable,  terror — the  only  terror  in  ques- 
tion ^ — 1  should  much  doubt.  Yet  Dacier,  very 
gravely,  produces  this  story  of  children  fainting 
away,  and  women  miscarrying,  with  the  fright,  as 
an  example  of  Tragic  terror  excited  by  the  oij/*?  % 
According  to  Dacier's  account,  the  allegorical 
personage  of  Auo-o-a,  or  Madness,  in  the  Hercules 
Furens  of  Euripides,  appears  in  her  aerial  car^ 
*'  with  a  hundred  heads,  roiaid  which  hiss  a  thaw 
"  sand  serpents^!"      It   is   rather    difficult   to 

conceive 

*  See  V.  116,  &c.  >        1 

*  See    Dr.  Campbcirs   Fhilos.  of  Rhetoric,   book  I. 
ch.  ii.  p.  323. 

*  P.  213,  and  47,  note  36. — The  story  Is  told  by  the 
anonymous  writer  of  the  life  of  iflschylus ; — urt  ra  (isf 

*  P.  215. 

I  4 


f1- 


tl. 

hv 


'■  t- 


tio  H    O    t    K    S. 

conceive   how  tliis   could   have    been   managed. 
These  hundred  heads,  in  the  passage  of  the  chorus 
alluded  to,  v.  884,  ceitainly  belong  to  the  serpents, 
not  to   Av<r<rx   herself;    and   the   emendation   of 
Reiske   seems    probable;  —  UotroyxipaXoit    0<p{(^ 
i»x^fxo^(ri.  —  *^  centicipitibus    serpentum   sibilis  *.'* 
Even  so,  I  can  scarce  imagine  an  Athenian  au- 
dience to  have  received  this  exhibition  with  coun- 
tenances  perfectly  Tragic.     The    arrival  of  old 
Ocean  mounted  upon  his  Griffin,  in  the  Prome- 
theus of  iEschylus,  must,  one  would  suppose,  have 
had  as  ridiculous  an  effect,   as  I  remember  the 
entrance  of  the  Minotaur  to  have  had  upon  the 
audience,  some  years  ago,  in  the  opera  of  Ttseo. 

If  such  a  dramatic  entertainment  as  our  Pan-- 

iomime  had   existed  in  the  days  of  Aristotle,  he 

would  probably  have  represented  the  Tragic  Poets^ 

whom  lie  here  censures,  as  encroaching  on  that 

province :  for,  indeed,  the  ngo^TiahT  i^ovoy  (^ia  ttij 

•\J/f«?  7rocpa<r}ttvx^o[j.iyouy   would  accurately  enough 

express  the  »iV«vtjv  olxnav^  of  the  pantomime.— -But, 

what  would  the  philosopher  have  said  to  a  species 

oi  the  drama,  of  which  the  O J/jf,  which  he  places 

at  the  very  bottom  of  his  scale  [cap.  vl],  is  the 

very  soul — d^x,^   xxi  oioy  ^v^rt :  and   where  the 

#x£uoTOi©>,  or  the  carpenter,,  takes  tl^^e  lead  of  the 

Poet? — To  do  it  justice,  however,  it  has  its  Mu8^, 

its  fable^  such  as  it  is,  with  its  beginning,  its  niiddley 

and  its  end\  though  a  spectator  may  be  often 

puzzled 
•  See  »he  Ox,  Euripides, 


NOTES.  i2f 

puzzled  to  make,  as  we  commonly  say,  head  or  tail 
of  its  plot  It  has  also  its  $i(Tnq  and  its  Auo-ik,  its 
ficeuds  and  its  denouemens,  in  great  abundance ; 
being,  indeed,  from  beginning  to  end,  a  continued 
series  of  knots,  tied  by  love,  and  cut  by  magic. 
Here  are  also  Tri^iinriixi  and  oivxyyi>ifi(rii<;,  revo- 
lutions, and  discoveries,  in  plenty ;  though  the 
chief  revolution,    indeed,  be  in  the  scenery ; — 

Ti  lU  TO   Ivxvriov   Tiov  'OPXIMENXIN  /XExajSoAn.      And 

with  respect  to  discoveries,  the  pantomime  may  be 
characterized  as  Aristotle  characterizes  the  Odys- 
sey, — oimyu(»>^iirni  yx^  (TioAa — "  it  abounds  througli- 
*'  out  with  discoveries*';"  for  the  poor  hero  is 
perpetually  discovered,  and  very  seldom  sU  pxix¥\ 
Then  there  are  Uxh  too,  disastei^s — the  tt^x^eiq 
livvnpxi  ^  at  least,  which,  to  the  upper  gallery,  make 
the  merriest  part  of  the  entertainment.  An  es- 
sential character,  the  clown,  is  even  appropriated 
to  this  purpose  of  suffering,  and  his  clothes  well 
wadded  for  the  reception  of  blows,  kicks,  and 
falls  \     But  Aristotle  little  foresaw,   I  suppose, 

when 

^  Cap.  xxiv.  Transl.  Part  III.  Sect.  I. 

•  Cap.  xi.  *  Cap,  xii.  init. 

*  The  Germans,  not  many  years  ago,  were,  it  seems, 
so  fond  of  this  sort  of  humour,  that  Dr.  Bumey  tells  us, 
**  bills  were  regularly  brought  in  to  the  managers  at  the 
"  end  of  each  week,  in  which  the  comic  actors  used  to 
**  charge  5  *'  So  much  for  a  slap  on  the  face," — "  So 
*^  much  for  a  broken  head,"  &c. — Sec  vol.  i.  of  Dr. 
Burney*s  entertaining  Journal  of  a  Tour  through  Germany^ 
^c.  p.  223, 


J!.    '* 

'i  lit 


122  NOTE    S. 

when  he  wrote  his  first  chapter,  that  a  species  of 
drama  without  words  would  one  day  be  invented  : 
Still  less,  probably,  could  he  have  imagined,  what 
to  the  antients  would  have  appeared  the  strangest 
part  of  this  business,  that,  tliougb  accompanied 
throughout  by  music,  yet  it  would  not  imitate 
"by  gesticulated  rhythyn'' — cTt*  (rp^n/xan^o/iAEKirt^ 
PTQMriN  ;  the  gestures  of  the  actors  in  panto- 
mime, being  not  at  all  regulated  by  the  measures  of 
the  music,  or  only  occasionally,  and  accidentally, 
according  to  the  ear,  and  inclination,  of  tlie  per- 
former ^. 

NOTE    102. 

P.  139.    Most  terrible,  or  piteous ,. 

After  having  established,  that  the  terrible  and 
piteous  should  arise  from  the  circumstances  of 
the  action  itself,  Aristotle  proceeds  to  examine  what 
are  the  circumstances  that  will  produce  the  highest 
degree  of  terror  and  pity,  within  the  proper  limits  ; 
that  is,  so  as  to  avoid  what  he  calls  the  ^i«^<»i/, 
the  shocking,  and  disgusting.  And  this,  perhaps, 
led  him  here  to  use  the  words  J«p«,  and  olxr^a,  as 
being,  if  I  mistake  not,  rather  stronger  than  (po^t^ot, 

and 


^  The  pantomimic  exhibitions  of  the  Romans,  spoken 
©f  in  note  4,  and  described  pretty  fully  by  Lucian, 
De  Salt,  were  widely  different.  They  were  a  species  of 
dance,  and  the  gestures  of  the  performers  were  strictly 
governed  by  the  rhythm  of  the  music;  the  words,  which 
it  was  the  business  of  the  dancer  to  express  by  those  ges- 
tures, being  sungy  at  the  same  time,  by  a  chorus. 


NOTES.  123 

and  tXtmot.  For  the  subject  of  this  chapter  seems, 
in  short,  to  be,  the  proper  management  of  the  TioAn 
or  disastrous  incidents :  "  Comment,"  as  Dacier 
has  rightly  observed,  "  on  doit  se  conduire  dans 
"  les  actions  atroces,'  p.  236.  Without  this  lead- 
ing idea  it  would  be  difficult  to  explain  satisfacto- 
rily some  passages  that  follow. 

NOTE  103. 

P.  140.     Between  friends. 

El'  rait  ^tXiaK. — For  the  wide  sense  in  which 
Aristotle  here  uses  the  word  ^*A*a,  see  Ethic, 
Nicom.  Vlll.  1,  and  7,  ed,  Ox»  1716,  and  th« 
passage  quoted  in  note  276. 

NOTE   104. 
P.  140.    But  it  is  his  province  to  invei^t 

OTHER  SUBJECTS,  AND  TO  MAKE  A  SKILFUL 
USE  OF  THOSE  WHICH  HE  FINDS  ALREADY 
ESTABLISHED. 

xaAwff.  The  expression  is  too  short  and  general  to 
be  clear.  It  is  fairly  capable  of  not  less  than 
three  different  meanings.  Eupio-xfii/,  may  mean^  to 
invent  a  subject  from  pure  imagination,  as  Agatho 
invented  his  ANQOS  * :  or  it  may  mean  only,  to 
Jirul  out  a  new  historical  subject ;  or,  lastly,  to 
invent,  not  a  subject,  but  only  circumstances  and 
incidents,  by  w  hich  the  old  subjects  may  be  varied ; 

which 

—  ■  ■      ■         -  -         .   _       ^  — ^ 

•  Cap.  ix.  Transl.  Pwt  IL  Sect.  6, 


p. 


it 
I 

t'f. 


« 


it 


124  NOTES. 

which  is  Dacier's  idea  :—*'  Le  Poete  doit  inventer 
lui-m^me,  en  se  servant  comme  ilfaut  des  fabled 
receues."— I  shall  only  say,  that,  on  the  whole, 
I  prefer  the  second  of  these  explanations.  Aristode, 
it  is  true,  had  allowed  ^  that  a  Poet  ought  not  to 
be  chained  down  to  the  old  traditional  stories; 
and  even,  that  it  would  be  ridiculous  (yiXoiov)  to 
suppose   subjects    of  pure    invention  absolutely 
prohibited.     But  this  is  delivered  as  a  permission, 
not  as  a  precept ;  and  he  would  hardly  have  en- 
forced a  permission  by  such  an  expression  as  he  * 
here  uses —  h^itrxm  AEI.    Again — uiro^f  ETPir- 
KEIN,  (against  Daciers  explanation,)  seems  plainly 

opposed  to  TOK   votfiOcMoixiyoig  XPH20AI — "  tO  USC 

"  old  subjects  properly,  and  to  invent  ovfnd  out 
new  subjects:  not  new  incidents  for  an  o/</sub- 
ject.**    This  may,  perfiaps,  receive  some  illus- 
tration and  suppot-t  from  a  similar  passage  in  the 
Rhetoric  \      In  the  second  chapter  of  the  first 
book,  he  divides  the  proofs  of  the  orator  into  two 
kinds — the  «Ti;^ifa»,  and  the  hn^you     The  aTi;^vot 
are  the  external  proofs ;  witnesses,   the  torture, 
writings,  and  all  such  proofs  as  are  ready  provided 
to  the  pleader's  hand — oVa  [An  ^»'  ^fAuv  iFnrofi^»fy 
mXXa  ▼pouTTn/jp^cK.     The  t9Ti)(vok    he  defines  to  be 
those  argumentative  proofs  which  depend  on  the 
art  and  invention  of  the  orator  himself.     He  thea 
concludes — an  <^n  TifT«#y,  tok  ^iv  XPH2AX0AI,  rtt 


ti 


u 


^  Cap.  ix.  Transl.  Part.  II.  Sect.  6. 
•  It  is  quoted,  I  see,  by  Robortelli* 


NOTES.  12^ 

*  ETPEIN  :— "  of  these  proofs,  the  first  sort  w» 
"  have  only  to  make  a  proper  use  of;  the  other 
"  we  must  invent." 

NOTE  105. 

P»  142*     But  of  all  these  ways,  &c. 

All  this  is  not  a  little  embrouilli. — Aristotk. 
describes  three  ways  only.  Then  he  says,  or 
seems  to  say, —  "  There  is  no  other  way  :" — •arxpca 
TotuTflt  ax  iny  «AA«j.  And  to  prove  this,  he  enu- 
merates all  the  ways  possible ;  which,  at  last,  turn 
out  to  he  four.  Hence  the  text  has  been  supposed 
defective.  [See  Castelvetro ;  and  Goulston's  sup- 
plemental translation.]  Perhaps  there  is  no  oc- 
casion to  suppose  this.  That,  at  least,  there. is  no 
accidental  omission  of  a  fourth  case,  (that  of 
purposing  without  executing  J  seems  pretty  clear 

from    the   expression   ETI    ^£    r^no¥   ira^x    rauroir: 

"*  there  is  still  a  third  way  beside  these.''  It  would 
have  been  rather  strange,  if,  immediately  after  this, 
he  had  proceeded  to  mention  a  fourth  way. — 
Taking  then  the  passage  as  perfect,  we  must  under- 
stand, I  think,  by  ix.  E2TIN  aXXwj,  not— there  is 
no  other  way  possible— hut,  there  is  no  other  pro- 
per,  admissible  way :  non  licet  aliter — it  must  not 
be  done  in  any  other  way.  For,  he  proceeds,  there 
are  but/owr  ways  possible;  but  of  all  these,  (rarwi^ 
h'-i.  e.  these  four  possible  ways,)  that  of  being 
"  ready  to  execute,  knowingly,  and  yet  not  exe- 
**  cutlng^'  is  the  worst,  and  not  to  be  enumerated 


1^^  ^ 


I4|. 


ft 


i 


11 : 


126  NOTES. 

by  a  critic  among  those  ways  which  a  Poet  may  b# 
allowed  to  use. 

Thus  Dacier  appears  to  have  understood  the 
passage,  by  his  translation,  which,  I  think,  is  right, 
as  to  the  sense.  But  I  thought  Aristotle's  meaning 
might  be  clearly  enough  expressed  without  peri- 
phrasis, or  supplement 

KOTE    106. 

V.  142.  But  the  best  of  all  these  ways 
is  the  last. 

In  the  13th  chapter  (Transl.  Sect  12.)  Aristotle 
had  pronounced  that  to  be  the  best  constituted 
Tragedy,  which  terminates  unhappily ;  and  had 
represented  that  species,  which  gratifies,  by  its 
catastrophe,  the  sympathetic  wishes  of  the  audience, 
as  inferior,  and  affording  a  kind  of  pleasure  rather 
appropriated  to  Comedy.  Yet  here,  he  appears 
to  give  the  preference  to  a  plan  calculated  to  afford 
that  very  pleasure  in  the  highest  degree.  This 
seeming  inconsistence  has  given  the  commentators 
much  trouble.  It  is  rather  surprising,  that  Dacier 
should  have  perceived  what  had  escaped  the  supe- 
rior acuteness  of  the  Italian  annotators,  viz,  that 
Aristotle  is  not,  in  this  chapter,  inquiring  what  is 
the  best  constitution  of  a  Tragic  fable  in  general, 
but,  w  hat  is  the  best  method  of  managing  the  most 
disastrous  and  atrocious  incidents  of  Tragic  story, 
•0  as  to  produce  the  highest  possible  degree  of 
5  Tragical 


NOTES.  127 

Tragical  emotion  in  the  spectator,  without  pro- 
ducing  horror  and  disgust*.  With  this  view  of  the 
subject,  the  reader,  perhaps,  will  not  see  much 
difficulty  in  reconciling  Aristotle  to  himself.  He 
might  surely  say,  without  inconsistence,  "  Tragedy, 
'*  to  be  perfect,  should  terminate  unhappily. 
"  Yet  there  may  be  particular  exceptions  to  this 
general  rule.  The  e7id  of  Tragedy  is,  to  excite 
terror  and  pity  ;  and  that  end  is  most  effectually 
**  answered,  when  those  emotions  are  not  only  ex- 
cited in  the  course  of  the  drama,  (as  they  un- 
doubtedly may  be,  and  to  a  high  degree,  evea 
in  such  pieces  as  end  fortunately,)  but  are  left 
impressed  upon  the  mind  of  the  spectator  by  tha 
catastrophe  itself.  Yet  this  Tragic  terror  is  not 
to  be  pushed  to  absolute  horror^  nor  the  r^ayixot 
to  be  confounded  with  the  fxix^ov :  and  I  allow, 
**  that  where  the  circumstances  of  the  traditional 
"  story,  from  which  the  Poet  takes  his  plot,  are 
**  such,  as  leave  him  only  the  alternative,  either  of 
"  disgusting  and  shocking  the  spectator,  or  of  gra- 
*'  tifying  his  wishes,  tlie  latter  is  clearly  to  ba 
**  preferred;  and  the  iiirXn  a-vrairig,  the  double 
"*  fable,  to  which  I  assigned  only  the  second 
"  placet,  will,m  that particuhr case,  deserve tha 
""Jirstr 

Nothing  seems  more  just,  or  more  accurately 
expressed,  than  Aristotle's  idea  of  the  end  of  Tra- 
gedy.; that  it  is,  "  to  give  that  pleasure  which 

arises 
*  Sec  note  102.  t  Transl.  vol.  i.  p.  137.  ^ 


i< 


ii 


a 


it 


u 


a 


u 


a 


fi 


(6 


I 


128  NOTES. 

arises  from  pity  and  terror  through  imitation :' — ' 

x«ua^£ik — cap.\\w,  (Transl.  Part  II.  Sect.  13.)  But 
the  Greek  Tragedians  will  be  thought,  I  believe, 
0  by  most  modern  readers,  to  have  sometimes  pushed 
this  principle  rather  too  far,  and  to  have  excited  a 
degree  of  horror,  which  even  the  charms  of  imi- 
tation cannot  well  be  conceived  to  have  softened 
into  pleasurable  emotion ;  and  it  appears  to  me, 
that  Aristotle  himself  inclined  to  this  opinion,  and 
that  he  intended  this  chapter  as  a  lesson  of  caution 
to  the  Poets  against  this  excess.    He  seems  plainly 
to  have  considered  the  actual  murder  of  a  mother, 
a  son,  a  brother,  and  the  like,  as  incidents  rather 
too  horrible  to  be  exhibited  in  any  way.     If  the 
deed  must  be  done,  let  it,  he  says,  if  possible-—- 
if  the  story  will  permit  it — be  done  ignorantly. 
But  it  will  be  still  better,  if  you  can  avoid  doing  it, 
entirely ;  if  you  can  contrive  to  make  the  expec* 
tation,  combined  with  the  atrociousness  of  the  event 
expected,  answer  your  purpose,  by  raising  as  mqch 
anxiety,    commiseration,  and  terror  in  the  spec- 
tator, as  may  consist  with  that  pleasure  which  is 
the  end  of  Tragedy,  and  then  relieving  him  at  last, 
by  prevention  ^t  the  very  moment  of  execution. 
That  Aristotle  thought  the  end  of  Tragedy  might 
be  sufficiently  answered  by  the  mere  expectation 
of  such  events,  properly  managed,  appears  from 
•his  expression  above : — «i  uhxtp^  dhx^ov^  n  m@» 

H  MEA- 


H  ME  A  AH*  ^ 


NOTES.  r29 

— raura  ^nTriTiov,    "  When  a  brother 
kills,  or  is  goi?ig  to  kill,"'  &e. 

For  this  purpose,  not  only  the  expectation  must 
be  such,  that  the  action  shall  appear  imminent  and 
inevitable,  but  the  action  itself  expected  must  be 
such,  as,  had  it  taken  place,  would  have  been 
dreadful,    ''  intolerable,''  &c.— t»    t«i-   ANHKEX- 
TX2N  *,  as  Aristotle  expresses  himself  in  describino- 
these  prevented  vxh.     By  these  means,  the  emo- 
tion of  terror  is  brought  as  near  as  possible  to  that 
't\  hich  would  arise  from  the  actual  perpetration  \ 
.     If  the  purport  of  this  chapter  has  been  here 
rightly  explained,  the  reader  will  see  how  Aristotle 
has  been  misrepresented  by  many  modern  critics, 
who   have   understood    him    to    recommend   the 
Cresphontes  of  Euripides  as  a  model  of  the  best 

possible 

•  I  find  the  same  thing  observed  by  Robortelll,  whose 
short  comment   is  worth  transcribing.      '*  Addit  vera 

Anstoteles — ti  rcov  amiHBruy  :  grave  enim  atroxque  factum 
"  ilJud  in  Tragcediis  esse  oportet,  quod  aliquis  patraturus 
**  ferme  fuerit,  quia  maximum  afFert  auditoribus  terrorem, 
"  qui  proprius  TragcEdiae  est,  et  admirationem  incredi- 
*'  bilem.  Aiunt  enim,  Quid  si  mact asset  ? — quam  parunt 
**  abfuit  a  cade  !  *'  p.  1 60. 

**  This  is  well  observed,  and  well  expressed,  by  Picco- 
lomini,  (p.  2 15,  &c.)  who,  with  Victor! us  and  other  com- 
mentators, confesses  himself  embarrassed  by  the  seeming 
inconiistenee  of  the  author  in  this  passage,  and  gives  the 
imminence  "^of  the  perpetration  as  the  only  solution  that 
occurs  to  him.  His  comment  is  excellent,  but  too  long  0 
for  transcription.  I  had  not  seen  it  when  my  remark^ 
were  written  i  but  I  was  glad  to  find  them  so  supported^ 


130  NOTES. 

possible  construction  of  a  Tragic  fable  in  general. 
Thus  Maffei,  in  the  dedication  of  his  Mcrope — 
"  Parla  di  essa  Aristotele  nella  Poetica,  dove 
"  trattando  de'  modi  di  ben  comporre  la  favola^  d^ 
"  per  eseinpio  dtlC  otthno  il  Cresfo?ite  d'  Euripides 
"  in  cui  Tatrocit^  veniva  dalla  ricognizione  im- 
•*  pedita.'' — And  Voltaire,  in  his  letter  to  Maffei, 
prefixed  to  the  French  Merope :  "  Aristote,  dans 
*'  sa  Poetique  immortelle,  ne  balance  pas  h  dire, 
**  que  la  reconnoissance  de  Merope  et  de  son  fils, 
*'  etoit  le  moment  le  plus  interessant  de  toute  la 
scene  Grecque.  II  donnoit  i  ce  coup  de  Thea- 
tre la  preference  sur  tons  les  autres^ 


NOTES. 


131 


« 


« 


NOTE    107. 

P.  142.    Merope,  &c, 

Plutarch's  account  of  the  effect  of  this  coup  de 
Theatre  upon  the  audience,  is  worth  transcribing, 
though  apparently  incorrect 

"ZKOTTit  h  Triv  Iv  TV  T^ocyudM  MEPOnHN,  lirt 
TOV  VIOV  «UT«V,  US  (povix  TB  w»,  veXbxvv  eipuf(,tviiv , 
x»t  'kiyiKTocv — 

'OvMTipot.v  ori  Trjvo   syu  Mufu  coi 
YiKrfyviv  -  -  r  -- 

ixrov  Iv  Tta  GeuToto  xivtifict  -TTOiei,  (ruvt^o^oia^acra 
ipovn'  [an,  (poBai  ?]  xxi  «®>  jtMj  (pScc<rv  tov  ImXetft- 
(2ccyoiJ,ivov  ysoovToc,  kcu  Tgwo"*!  to  [iet^ax.tov, — 
[llsff  la^Ko(p.  p.  1837,  ed.  H.  St."] 

For  otlier  fragments  of  tliis  Tragedy,  the  reader 
way  see  the  Ox.  Euripides, 


NOTE  108. 
P.  143-    The  manners  should  be  good. 

Good,  in  the  usual  senseofwor^/ goodness;  the 
only  sense  which  ;^,r«,  applied  to  mamers,  will 
bear,  and  whicli,  even  though  the  word  would  ad- 
mit of  other  senses,  would  here  be  fixed,  beyond  a 
doubt,  by  the  plain,  unequivocal  expression  of  the 
whole  passage.     Dacier  admires  and  follows  the 
nonsense  of  Le  Bossu,  who  makes  ;«,,«  ,•«,  mean 
poeticalli,  good;  that  is,  well  tmrked  by  the  Poet  • 
in  which  sense,  the  rule  is  equally  well  observed 
by  Milton  in  his  Satan,  and  by  Richardson  in  his 
,    Grandison.    "  There  are,"  according  to  this  «  best 
«  interpreter  of  Aristotle  %"  "  deux   sortes  de 
*'  bontd  dam  les  mceurs ;  I'une  que  I'on  peut  ap- 
''  peller  morale,  et  qui  est  propre  k  la  vertu :  et 
''^  I'autre  est  la  poetique,  4  laquelle  les  homrms  les 
"  plus  vtcieuT  ont  autant  depart  que  ks gens  de 
"  bien  "."     How  could  Mr.  Harris,  with  his  tho- 
rough  knowledge  of  the  Greek  language,  and  Ms 
clear  and  exact  turn  of  thinking  in  general,  re- 
commend  all  this,  as  "  a  >e  and  copious  com- 
*'  mentary  on  this  part  of  Aristotle's  Poetics  '  ?  * 
I  shall  not  waste  time  in  confuting,  what  has  been 
-      -  .  sufficiently   , 

*  Harris,  On  Music,  &c.  p.  83,  note. 

*  Traite  du  Poeme  £p.  lib.  iv.  ^ .  4.  •  • 

*  See  Phild.  Inquiries,  p.  i66;  and  Le  Bossu,  lib.iv. 
*'  4>  S.  «c.  to  which  he  refers. 

K  2 


132  NOTES. 

sufficiently  confuted  long  ago^  —  Ti?  dxxn,  row 
ixvovT  i7^^yiTccvuv ; — Dacier  s  note  is  a  curious  spe- 
cimen of  absurd  interpretation  supported  by  false 
translation  *. 

The  best  comment  I  have  seen  on  this  passage 
is  that  of  Heinsius ;  which  I  shall  therefore  give 
entire. 

"  Caeterum,  in  moribus,  quatuor  tenenda  esse 
'*  docet  Aristoteles ;  quorum  pirimum  est,  ut  sint 
"  bom.  Quod  est  exponendum  pluribus. — Inter 
"  ea  quae  quam  niaxim^  in  TragoediA  reprehen- 
'*  debat  Plato  \  vel  prcpcipuum  hoc  erat ; — quod 
"  nimirum  varia,  non  uniformis,  sit  illius  imitatio ; 
"  et  occasione  oblatA,  probos  juxta  improbosque 
'**  imitetur ;  nonnunquam  autem  improbos  tan- 
"*'  turn :  quo  facillimfe  animum,  quod  supra  mo- 
"  nebamus,  decipi  humanum,  qui  dum  solum 
^'  respicit  decorum^  quod  propositum  est  illi,  bojio- 
^'  rum  saepe,  et  vialorum,  discrimen  non  agnoscit, 

"  et. 


**  Bv  Mr.  De  la  Barre.  See  Mem.  dc  PAcad,  &c.  his 
second  Diss,  Sur  U  Poeme  Epique.  See  also  M.  Batteux's 
satisfactory  note  on  this  passage. 

•  Aristotle  says  plainly,  the  ^9®-  will  be  x^°^>  if  the 
9rfoaif£(ri$  is  xfi^.  ^^^  the  contrary: — pczu>>ov  ixtv,  [sc.  nS®- 
clti  j  iov  pawMv  [sc.  ir^oou^iaiv  xojti  f av£fav,]  xfirov  ^f,  fay  xfn- 
rw.  See,  now,  Dacier's  version  of  this  :  "  11  y  a  des  moeurs 
*'  dans  un xliscours,  ou  dans une action, Icrsque  Tun  et Tantrc 
^*  font  connoitre  Tinclination  ou  la  resolution  telle  qu'ellc 
^*  est,  mauvaise  si  elle  est  mauvaise,  bonne  si  elle  est  bonnet 

'  See  De  Rep.  iii.  p.  394,  395,  &c«  (Ed.  Sfrr,) — tbf 
passages  here  alluded  to. 


„                        NOTES.  ,3j 
et,  ut  ipse  Poeta,  utrosque  mores  imitatur ;  quo 
1^'  nihil  magis  in  "republicA  pernitiosum  excogitari 
"^^  potest.     Quippe  ratione  ist;\  scholam  vitiorum, 
^*  non  virtutum,  fieri  theatrum  ;  et  quidem  quanto 
"  magis  banc  in  partem  inclinamus  omnes.    Prse- 
'I  terea,  iiiterpretes  Platonis— alium  admitti  ab  eo 
"  negant    Poetam,    quam    qui    omni    varietate 
sublatA,  Deum  et   bonorum  virorum  actiones 
♦^'  imitetur  »  ;  cjetera  enim  delectare  quidem,  non 
"  autem  docere  ;  plerumque  vero  mores  vitiare  ac 
^1  corrumpere,  ideoque  nocere  magis  quam  pro- 
"^^  desse.    Huic  ut  occurreret  Philosophus,  primum 
"  hoc  de  moribus  praceptum  esse  voluit,  probi  ut 
"  essent ;  tales  enim  esse  in  Tragcediii  non  modo 
"  posse,  quod   negabat  Plato,  sed   et,  guantum 
"  ratio  poematis  permitteret,  dtbere.     Confirmant 
^^  hoc  excmpla   tragicorum;   qui  sine   uWk  lege 
^''  banc  tamen  legem  sunt  secuti.     Etiam  poste- 
"  riores  critici,  qui  nonnullas  vetcrum  hoc  nomine 
"^^  notarunt,  quod  aut  omnes,  aut  pkrasque,  pessime 
"  moratas  haberent  personas.     Qualis  est,    ex. 
"^  grat.  Euripids  Orestes;  in  quo,  priEter  Pykden,' 
"  improbi  omnium  sunt  mores ».     Neque  enim 
^ "  htec 

_  •  Plato  says,  the  Poets  should  be  obliged,  r..r«  <iya& 

imimc good  charaaers,  or  not  to  imitate  at  all."— i?^A  iif 
p.  401.B.  ^' 

•     «  He  alludes,  I  suppose,  to  the  censure  passed  upon  that 
1  ragedy  in  one  of  the  arguments  prefixed :  to  fca^a  t<.» 
tTi  <r«or.«f  tiiomiMnm,,  XEtPJ2T0N  AE  TOJS  H0£ZI- 
!^•^^l^  yaj  tt/A«Ja,  wann  favhot  war. 

K3 


C< 


« 


t 


134  NOTES. 

*^  hsec  mens  Aristotelis,  aut  non  alios  quani  optimfe 
"  moratx)s,  esse  inducendos,  aut,  si  alii  inducantur, 
"  quos  fuisse  improbos  constat,  probos  iis  tribu- 
"  endos  esse  mores  :  sed,  ut,  quantum  ratio  per- 
^*  viittity  plures  optimh  morati  in  eodem  inducantur 
**  dramate.  Quamvi§  enim  et  utrique  requiruntur, 
*'  et  tarn  horum  quam  illorum  ratione  constet  dc- 
*'  corum,  probos  tanto  esse  praeferendos,  quanto 
*'  plus  conducunt  cum  spectantur  \" 

To  do  full  justice  to  Aristotle's  meaning,  it  must 
be  observed,  i .  That  what  he  says  should  be  un- 
derstood chiefly,  though  by  no  means  solely^  as 
some  have  explained  it*,  of  the  principal  cha- 
racters,  2.  That  the  word  X^nr®*  does  not  imply 
a  character  of  high  and  exemplary  virtue.  It 
seems  to  answer  to  our  popular  expression,  a  good 
sort  of  man ;  and  it  excludes  absolutely,  only 
habitual  vice,  bad  disposition,  irovyipioc,  MOX0HPIA, 
as  it  is  expressed  in  a  passage  that  should  be  com- 
pared with  tliis''.     3.  That  tlie  rule,  even  with 

respect 

'  De  Trag.  Comtit.  cap.  xlv. 

*  So  M.  Batteux ;  and  Marmontel,  Poet,  Franplse, 
11.  181,  who  defends  die  true  sense  of  xfira  h^,  but  says, 
that  '^  the  interesting  personage  of  the  piece  is  die  only  one 
*'  whom  Jurist otle  had  in  vievjP  But,  Aristotle  instances 
in  Mcnelaus,  who  certainly  is  not  **  le  personnage  into- 
«  ressanty*  in  the  Orestes.  His  instance  of  slaves,  too> 
$hews  the  precept  to  be  general, 

^  Cap.  %xv.  at  the  end,  where  this  fault  in  the  manners 

is  expressed  dius — O^^nh  imrifja^ii MOX0HPIA'  orof 

f«Ji  av^yxn^  k<n\i,  «.t.«a, — See^  Transl,  Part  IV.  Sect.  7. 


NOTES.  13J 

respect  to  such  characters,  is  not  absolute ;  as  is 
evident  from  Aristotle's  expression,  when  he  gives 
an  example  of  the  violation  of  it,  trx^x^nyiAK 
'Koyn^ix(;  MH  ANAFKAION  :  and,  again,  in  cap.  xxv. 
hccy  MH  ANAFKHS  'OTSHI,  x.r.aX.— 4.  That 
what  he  presently  adds,  «rt  h  iv  Utxrtii  yivBi  \  is  a 
necessary  modification  of  the  precept,  and  shews, 
tliat  he  did  not  mean,  as  Heinsius  well  observes, 
to  exclude  comparative  badness  of  manners,  but 
meant  only — as  good  as  may  be,  consistently  with 
the  observance  of  the  other  requisites  mentioned — 
the  oiofAOTToVf  and  the  ofAOiov. 

The  reason  of  the  precept,  Aristotle  has  not 
given  us.  But,  it  appears,  I  think,  clearly,  from 
his  substituting  tlie  word  BAABEPA  f hurtful,  per^ 
niciousy)  for  f^o^^fi^x,  or  irovn^x,  in  his  enumeration 
of  the  greatest  faults  of  Poetry  at  the  end  of 
cap.  xxv "".  that,  however  he  might  differ  from  Plata 
as  to  the  hurtful  -tendency  of  Tragedy,  and  of 
imitative  Poetry  in  general,  he  so  far  at  least  agreed 
with  him,  as  to  admit  the  danger  of  those  poe- 
tical, embellished,  and  flattering,  exhibitions  of 
vice,  in  which,  as  one  of  the  most  eloquent,  and 
I  might  add,  the  most  Platonic  \   of   modern 

writers 

■ 

'  What  he  means  by  yfv^,  is  explained  in  the  Rhet,  JI. 
7. — Xpyw  ^£,  FENOS  fjLev,  koS  y{KmaN'  oiov  ttui;  vj  aw)^,  n 
yt^m, — MM  ytm  moi  awi^' — xai  AoucuVj  h  ©ettoX®-,  &c. 

"  Transl.  Part  IV.  Sect.  7.— See,  note  260. 

■  On  this  subject  especially.  See  his  whole  letter  to 
M.  D'Alcmbert  against  die  establishment  of  a  Theatre  at 
Geneva. 

K4 


6-1 


<i 


<i 


136        ^  NOTES. 

ivriters  expresses  it,—*-'  L  auteur,  pour  faire  parler 
"  chacun  selon  son  caractere,  est  lorc6  de  mettre 
**  dans  la  bouche  des  mediants  leurs  maximes,  et 
"  leurs  principes,  revetus  de  tout  Teclat  des  beaux 
"  vers,  et  debit6s  d  un  ton  imposant  et  sententieux, 
"  pour  rinstruction  du  parterre  °."  Witii  respect 
to  characters  of  atrocious  villany,  such  as  that  of 
Gienalvon  in  Douglas,  which  ca?i  excite  only  pure 
detestation,  I  believe  the  ideas  of  Plato,  and  per- 
haps of  Aristotle,  were  very  nearly,  if  not  exactly, 
the  same,  which  this  admirable  writer  has  expressed 
in  the  concluding  note  of  his  Nouvelle  Eloise. — 
En  achevant  de  relire  ce  recueil,  je  crois  voir 
pourquoi  I'interet,  tout  foible  qu'il  est,  m  en  est 
**  si  agr^able,  et  le  sera,  je  pense,  k  tout  lecteur 
"  d'un  bon  naturel.  C  est  qu'au  moins  ce  foible 
"  inter^t  est  pur  et  sans  melange  de  peine ;  qu'il 
*'  n'est  point  excite  par  des  iioircturs,  par  des 
*'  crimes,  ni  mel6  du  tourment  de  hair,  Je  ne 
^'  sf  aurois  concevoir  quel  plaisir  on  pent  prendre 
^'  a  imaginer  et  composer  le  personnage  d'un  see-* 
"  lerat,  a  se  mettre  h  sa  place  tandis  quon  le 
^*  repr^sente  ^,  a  lui  pretcr  Teclat  le  plus  imposant. 

"  Je 

**  Letire  a  D'Alembert,  p.  54. — Plato,  after  ciring  some 
verses  of  Homer  which  he  conceived  to  have  a  pernicious 
tendency,  says,  that  he  reprobates  them — »x:  ^J  «  'roirrruca 
uai  v]ha  roig  7ro>^oig  aKHHv,  oX^'  '02X1 1  nOIHTIKXlTEPA, 
TOSOTTOi  HTTON  ^AKOTSTEON  '^cciji  nai  ayS^ocri, 
&c. — De  Repub,  iii.  circ,  init, 

P  In  Plato's  figurative  and  expressive  language — iounov 
hcfAOTTeLV  T£  xai  curavai  si;  t8$  tuv  kcdhovuv  TVTTtfj,     Kep,  ilL 

p.  396, — And  see  before;  p.  395,  C,  D, 


NOTES.  i^y 

*'  Je  plains  beaucoup  les  auteurs  de  tant  de  Tra- 
"  gedies  pleines  d'horreurs,  lesquels  passent  leur 
''  vie  k  faire  agir  et  parler  des  gens  qu  on  ne  peut 
"  6couter  ni  voir  sans  ^ouffrir,"  &c. 


NOTE   109. 

P.  143-44.  In  general,  women  are,  per- 
haps, RATHER  BAD  THAN  GOOD. 

"  Aristote,"  says  M.  Batteux,   "  ne  parte  pas 
"  ici  des  Jemmes  en  gherdl,  mais  seulement  de 
"  celles  que  les  Poetes  ont  rnises  sur  le  Theatre, 
"  telles   que  Medee,    Clytemnestre,"  &c.     This 
is  polite;  but  it  will  not  make  Aristotle  polite. 
He  speaks  plainly ;  and  what  he  says   is,  I  fear, 
but  too  conformable  to  the  manner  in  which  the 
antients  usually  speak  of  the  sex  in  general.     At 
least,  he  is  certanily  consistent  ^with  himself:  wit- 
ness the  following  very  curious  character  of  women 
in  his  History  of  Animals,  which  I  give  the  reader, 
by  no  means  for  his  assent,  but  for  his  wonder,  or 
his  diversion. 

<I>IAOAOIAOPON  ^aXXoi/,  xa/  nAHKTIKXlTE- 

PON  ••      BTi     Ib     KXi     Sv(rQv[MV     flOCXXoV  ' KM 

_       SucrBXTtTt, 


•  Ih^TuccoTi^ov  (i.  e.)TBPl2TIKXlTEPON,says  Hesy- 
cliius.  I  am  afraid  the  word  means  what  it  says.  Jul. 
Pollux  gives  it  as  one  of  the  epithets  of  a  boxer.      We 

wight  translate  it,  with  weU-bred  ambiguity^  ^^  more 
striking:* 


138  NOTES. 

Sv(ri\'srt,  ycoci  ANAIAE2TEPON  KAI  TEYAEr- 
TEPON,  Bucx,wocrviTOTtpov  re,  rtoci  fjCvrf^oviyccoTBoov' 
In  Jg,  ArPrnNOTEPON  »»  KAI  'OKNHPO- 
TEFON  }CM  oXcog  ocKivrjTpTB^ov — Jd.r.aX. — [Z)e 
Hisf.  A7iimaL  lib.  ix.  cap.  1.] 

To  make  the  reader  amends  for  the  pain  which 
this  cool  and  serious  invective  of  the  philsopher  and 
the  naturalist  may  have  given  him,  I  cannot  resist 
the  temptation  of  presenting  him  with  a  specimen 
of  more  sportive  satire  on  this  subject,  in  a  very 
pleasant  fragment,  preserved  by  Athenaeus,  from 
a  Comedy  of  Eubulus. 

XI  Zeu  iroXuTifMiT  ^  u  Kocrcug  lyu  'ttotb 

"Epu  yvvuMxg,  vff  At  oc7roXoi[4,fiv  aou.-'-^ 

TlocvTwv  uptg-ov  jcTrjfJLocTcov.      6<o    lyevsTO 

KocTcrj  yvvrj  Mijde/a,  UrjvBXoTrBia  Se 

Meyoc  Tr^cty/JL. — e^n  rig  ug  KXvroct[jiVfjg'^oc  KUKfj ;— ^ 

AXxvig-iv  ocvTsdyjX^a,  XBV^V- — aXX  icreag 

^ociCduv  6P£i  KocKcag  Tig' — aXXa,  vvf  A/a, 

Xpvjg-f}  Tig  riv  fjLBvroi Tig 'y — olfioi^  Jls/Xflfi©.*— 

Tux^uQ  yB  [jC  di  XPHSTAI  FTN AIKEE  iTreXiTfov. 
TuvS'  uu  nONHPXlN  In  XsyBiv  'jroXXug  \x^' 

If  ever  against  woman-kind  I  rail, 
Great  Jupiter  confound  me ! — for  of  all 
The  good  things  of  this  world,  they  are  the  best. 
Medea,  you  will  say,  was  bad: — agreed; 
But,  what  a  jewel  was  Penelope! 

Urge 


*  i.  e. — "  more  able  lu  Kccjt 
*  time,  more  lazy^  than  men. 


to  keep  late  hours^  and,  at  the  same 
I  men." 


^    O    T    E    S.  ,3^ 

Urge  you  the  wicked  Clytemnestra  ?~l, 
Oppose  the  oY?o(/ Jto^/k— If  you  tell  me 
Of  Ph(Pdra,—l  remind  you  of  the  good, 

—Stay,  let  me  see— the  good Alas !  how  soon 

My  memory  fails  me  there ;  while,  of  the  bad. 
Examples  in  abundance  still  occur. 

See  A  then.  p.  559,  or  the  Excerpta  ex 
Trag,  &c.  of  Grotius,  p.  657. 

NOTE    110. 

P.  144.    Resemblance a  different 

THING,  &C. 

The  words,  i(T'mo  il^nrxt,  are  embarrassing ;  for 
the  difference  here  spoken  of  had  not  been  men- 
tioned before,  as  the  expression,  in  its  most  ob- 
vious sense,  implies.  The  only  meaning  I  can 
find  is  this.  The  two  requisites,  the  d^fj^orrop  and 
the  oiMoiov,  propriety,  and  resemblance,  might  easily 
be  confounded ;  the  o>o,oi.  being  indeed  only  the 
u^fMOTTov  in  another  point  of  view.  The  violence  and 
fierceness  of  Medea,  for  example,  which  form  her 
historical  or  traditional  character,  and,  therefore, 
the  likeness  of  the  Poet's  picture,  maybe  said  to  be 
a>^oTTOi.T«,  proper  or  suitable,  with  respect  to  the 

individual,   though  «V^.^,   h«.    ^,    aVorro.m,    im^ 

proper  and  unsuitable,  to  the  general  character  of 

the  sex—And  thus  Piccolomini :-"  k  terza  con- 

.  I'  ditione  che  assegna  Aristotele  k  i  costumi,  la 

*'  qual  consiste  in  esser  simile,  non  differisce  della 

"  seconda, 


C( 


,(( 


(C 


IC 


u 


it 


it 


a 


140  NOTES. 

"  seconda,  posta  nell'  esser  convenevoli,  in  altro, 
"  se  noil  che  la  conditione  del  convenevolc  ri- 
guarda  Vuniversale;  com'  k  dire,  che  quel 
costume  convenga  ad  un  principe,  quello  ad  un 
suddito,  quello  a  Tuomo,  &c. — senza  considerar 
questa  pkrticolar  persona,  6  quella :  e  la  con- 
ditione del  simile  riguarda  il  particolare ;  come 
k  dire,  qua!  costume  convenga  di  porre  in  uno 
che  habbia  da  rappresentar'  Achille ;  qual  in 
quello  che  habbia  da  representare  Oreste,''  &c. 
(p.  220.) 

Indeed,  Aristotle  would  hardly  have  thought  of 
admonishing  the  reader  not  to  confound  the  two 
things,  had  he  not  seen  that  tliey  were  liable  to  be 
confounded.  He  would  not  have  remarked,  that 
they  were  different,  had  they  been  perfectly,  and 
obviously,  distinct,  I  think  then,  that  the  words, 
toOTTff  fipt)T«i,  must  refer  only  to  the  a,^i/.orroy,  and 
the  meaning  must  be,  that,  to  make  the  manners 
like,  is  a  different  thing  not  only  from  making  them 
good^  but  even  from  making  them  proper,  in  such 
a  way  as  had  been  said — in  that  sense,  in  which 
the  word  i^fxorrovrx  had  just  been  used,  and  ex- 
plained by  his  instance.  But  if  we  understand 
the  passage  thus,  there  should  be  Ho  stop  after 


iron>i<rxi 


But, 


*  By  Piccolomini's  version,  (for  he  says  nothing  about 
this  di£Eculty  in  his    commentary,)  it  appears  that  he 

understood 


NOTES,  '  x4r 

But,  why  does  Aristotle  mention  at  all,  a  dif- 
ference so  very  obvious  as  that  between  resem- 
ilance,  and  goodness,    of  manners  .^—T^e^e  two 
requisites  could  not   easily  be  confounded,  any 
more  than  likeness  and  beauty  in  a  portrait.    There 
wa5  more  danger  of  a  reader's  thinking  the  ojao^oi, 
too  different  from  the  ^e^Jrov,  and,   as  a  general 
precept,  incompatible  with  it.     And  so  indeed  he 
seems  to  have  apprehended  himself,  by  what  he 
presently  after  says »»  about  the  ^i^Lc^o-i?  ^^Xnoyi^v, 
and  his  rule,  that  the  Poet,  in  imitation  of  the 
painter,    should   exhibit  his   characters  as  much 
better  than  they  were,  or  are  supposed  to  have 
been,  as  is  consistent  with   the  preservation  of 
the  likeness. 


NOTE    111. 

P.  144.  Though  the  model  of  the  Poet's 

IMITATION  BE  SOME  PERSON  OF  UNUNIFORM 
MANNERS,  STILL  THAT  PERSON  MUST  BE  RE- 
PRESENTED    AS    UNIFORMLY    UNUNIFORM. 

ilMo^Xug  di/u)fxmXoy  $11  bIvxi. "  which  last  words," 

says  an  eminent  writer,  "  having  been  not  at  all 

*'  understood, 

understood  the  passage  as  I  do :  '^  —  essendo  cosi  fatta 
"  conditione  diversa  dall'  esser'  i  costumi  formati  buoni, 
e  ancora  convenevoli  fid  modo  che  gia  si  e  demy 

*  At  the  end  of  this  Sect,  of  the  translation  j  and  of 
«ap.xv.  of  the, original. 


4( 


<c 


<i 


i< 


142  NOTES. 

"  understood,   have  kept   his  interpreters    from 
''  seeing  the  true  sense  and  scope  of  the  precept. 
^*  For  they  have  been  explained  of  such  characters 
''  as  that  of  Tigellius  in   Horace;  which,  how- 
"  ever  proper  for  satyr,  or  for  farcical  Comedy, 
*'  are  of  too  fantastic  and  whimsical  a  nature  to 
be  admitted  into  Tragedy ;  gf  which  Aristotle 
must  there  be  chiefly  understood'  to  speak,  and 
to  which  Horace,  in  this  place,  alone  confines 
"  himself.     Tis   true,  indeed,   it  may  be  said, 
"  that  *  though  a  whimsical  ox  fantastic  character 
*^  be  improper  for  Tragedy,  an  irresolute  one  is 
''  not.     Nothing  is  finer  than  a  sti'uggle  between 
''  different  passions;  and  it  is  perfectly  natural, 
*^  that  in  such  a  circumstance,  each  should  prevail 
by  turns/— But  then  there  is  the  widest  differ- 
ence between  the  two  cases.     Tigellius,  with 
all  his  fantastic  irresolution,   is  as  uniform  a 
"  character,  as  that  of  Mitio,     If  the  expression 
*'  may  be  allowed,  its  very  i?iconsistC7ict/  is  of  the 
*^  essence  of  its  uniformity.     On  the  other  hand, 
"  Electra,  torn  with  sundry  conflicting  passions, 
*'  is  most  apparendy,  and  in  the  properest  notion 
"  of  the  word,  ununiform.     One  of  the  8tron<yest 
"  touches  in  her  character  is  that  of  a  high,  heroic 
spirit,  sensible  to  her  own,   and  her  family's 
injuries,  and  determined,  at  any  rate,  to  revenge 
them.     Yet  no  sooner  is  this  revenge  perpe- 
*'  trated,   than  she  softens,  relents,   and   pities. 
[^  Here  is  a  manifest  ununiformity^  which  can,  in 
5  *«  BO 


« 


u 


ti 


« 


it 


€i 


t< 


4C 


a 


NOTES.  ,43 

no  proper  sense  of  the  expression,  lay  claim  to 
the  critic's  oV«xo»,  but  may  be  so  managed,  by 
•'  the  Poet's  skill,  as  lo  become  consistent  with 
the  basis  or  foundation  of  her  character,  that 
IS,  to  be  ojAxXu!  diui>.xXov.    And  that  this,  in 
fact,   was   the  meaning  of  the  critic,  is  plain 
"  from  the  similar  example  to  his  own  rule,  given 
"  in  the  case  of  Tphigenia:  which  he  specifies 
"  (how  justly,  will  be  considered  hereafter)  as  an 
instance  of  the  iv^^ocxs,  irregular,  or  ununi- 
frrrm,  character,  ill-expressed,  or  made  incon- 
sistent.      So  that  the  genuine   sense   of   the 
precept  is,  '  Let  the  manners  be  uniform ;'  or, 
if  ununiform,  yet  consistently  so,  or  uniformly 
ununiform :'  exactly  copied,  according  to  the 
reading  here  given,  by  Horace.     Whereas  in  the 
other  way,  it  stands  thus :  '  Let  your  characters 
be  uniform,  or  unchanged ;  or,  if  you  paint  an 
ununiform  character  (such  as  Tigellius)  let  it  bs 
ununiform  all  the  way;  i.e.  such  an  irregular 
"  character  to  the  end  of  the  play,  as  it  was  at 
"  the. beginning;  which  is,  in  effect,  to  say,  let  it' 

be  uniform:'  which  apparently  destroys  the 
**  latter  part  of  the  precept,  and  makes  it  an  un- 
"  meaning  tautology  with  the  former  *." 

I  have  given  this  passage  entire,  that  the  reader 
may  have  it  fully  in  his  power  to  judge,  for  him- 
self, whether  I  mistake  or  misrepresent  the  mean- 


U 


u 


(( 


it 


<( 


<( 


it 


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44 


4( 


4( 


4( 


I 


102 


'  Comment,   on  the   £p.   to  the  Pisos,  &c.  vol.  L 
f.  104,  &c. 


144  N    O    T    E    S, 

ing  of  any  part  of  it.  I  should  be  sorry  to  be 
thought  capable  of  a  perfect  confidence  in  my  own 
opinion,  however  carefully  and  deliberately  formed, 
when  it  is  opposed  by  that  of  such  a  writer.  But, 
after  having  repeatedly  considered  this  comment, 
as  it  certainly  deserves  to  be  considered,  with  all 
the  attention  in  my  power,  I  am  obliged  to  con- 
fess, that  it  does  not  satisfy  me,  and  that  the  com- 
mon interpretation  still  appears  to  me  to  stand  its 
ground. — My  reasons  are  these  : 

1.  I  cannot  think,  that  ^i/cA  change,  irresolution^ 
and  temporary  inconsistence  as  arises  from  "  con- 
*^  flicting passions^''  comes  under  the  meaning  of 
Aristotle's  'H0O2  «\«/xaXo»'. — H0<^,  is  the  pre- 
vailing disposition^  the  habitual  w^oxi^iwiq^  or  settled 
character.  "  Electra,"  it  is  said,  "  torn  with 
"  sundry  conflicting  passions^  is  most  apparently, 
.**  and  in  the  properest  sense  of  the  word,  ununi- 
**  form''  Not  so,  I  think,  in  Aristotle s  sense  of 
the  word  akwjuax®*,  as  expressly  applied  by  him 
here  to  ih,  or  manners.  The  irregularities  of 
conduct^  or  of  sentiment  and  speech,  arising  from 
passion^  seem  to  be  a  distinct  thing  from  such  as 
imply  a  change  of  the  fixed,  prevailing  »?9©^,  or 
characteristic  manners  of  the  person.  When  such 
passionate  ununiformity  as  that  above  described 
in  Electra,  is  so  managed  by  the  Poet's  skill,  *'  as 
"  to  become  consistent  .with  the  basis  or  founda- 
"  tionofher  character,'  that  character  is  noty 
then,  I  think,  as  the  ingenious  critic  considers  it 

to 


^    O    T    E    S.  r45 

to  be,  o>«Xc^f  dvtcixoLXoy,  I  e.   (as  it  is  expressed  in 
the  beginning  of  the  following  note,  p.  127.)  ^*  an 
''  ununiform  character  justly  sustained,  or,  uni- 
"  formly  ununiform:"  it  is  not,   if  I  understand 
Aristotle  rightly,  dvu^^^o^Xoy  at  all,  in  Aw  sense;  for 
he  speaks  only  of  anomalous  manners ;  and  ano-  ' 
malous  manners,  plainly,  cannot  be  made  **  con-^ 
"  sistent  with  the  basis  or  foundation  of  a  clia- 
"  racter,"  in  any  other  sense,  than  as  that  very 
anomaly   itself  constitutes  the   character.     And 
this  I  take  to   be  Aristotle's  meaning :  for  he  is 
speaking  of  that  anomaly,  in  which  difterent  cha- 
racters, not,  in  which  "  different /^^^^/(?;2^,  prevail 
by  turns." 

2.  The  very  expression,— x'a.  ya,^  ANHMAAOS 

TIX  j  0  Tfiv  fAiiArifnv  voc^ix^y,  ***  TOIOTTON  H0OS 

vVoT»9iK,  seems  plainly  to  indicate  an   ununiform 
character,    such  as   he   explains    by  the  o>^x«c 
dvujiAuXQv  that   follows.— a»w^fitA(^  TIS— an  ano- 
malous person:    i.e.   a  person  of  inconsistent 
ma7iners,  or  character.     This  expression  seems 
hardly  applicable,  without  violence,  to  such  casual 
and  merely  apparent  inconsistence,  as  arises  from 
conflicting  passions,  and  is  reconcilable  with  "  the 
basis  or  foundation  of  a  character.  \ 
3.   "  The  genuine  sense  of  the   precept,"   we 
are  told,  ''  is,  Let  the  manners  be  uniform;  or,  if 
"  ununiform,   yet  cmisistently  so,   or  uniformly 
"  ununiformr     But,  consistently,  and  unformly, 
seem  to  present  different  ideas.     Aristotle  s  word, 


'  a 


146  NOTES. 

i{jf.xXuiy  presents  only  the  latter  of  these: — uni" 
/or////y— that  is,  more  literally,  egiwllj/  *,  evenly, 
&c.  it  does  not,  I  think,  answer  at  all  to  amm- 
tentlijy  in  the  sense  in  which  it  is  evidently 
applied,  in  this  explanation,  to  what  is  not  in- 
congruous—  not  unaccountable,  &c^  Had  tliis, 
therefore,  been  Aristotle's  meaning,  he  would, 
probably,  have  used,  either  «IxoT«f,  or  fu^oywf,  or 
some  other  such  word  appropriated  to  that  mean- 
ing ;  not  9iMxXuiy  w  hich  is  never,  as  far  as  I  know, 
used  in  the  sense  of  comistently, 

4.  But  it  is  objected,  that  if  we  take  c/x^"f 
dvuiJ.»Kov  to  mean  "  uniform  all  the  way^  i.  e.  such 
"  an  irregular  character  to  the  end  of  the  play, 
**  a3  it  w^a^  ^t  the  beginning,"  this,  "  is,  in  effect 
"  to  say,  let  it  be  uniform;  which  apparently 
destroys  the  latter  part  of  the  precept,  and 
makes  it  an  unmeaning  tautology  with  the 
"  former."  —  The  first  part  of  the  precept,  I 
think,  is,  Let  the  manners  be  uniform ;  or,  as  we 
3ay,  of  apiece.     Now   to  tljis  an  objector  might 

♦  In  Horace's  character  of  TigeUtuSy  UbA.  sat.^.  "Nil 
«*  .EQUALE,''  is,  ihv  'OMAAON.  And  so,  "  Vixit  in- 
'«  iEQUALis"— «ra)/i«xx©-,  in  sat.  7.  lib,  ii.  of  Priscus, 
another  character  of  the  same  stamp,  «  Vertumnis, 
*^  quotquot  sunty  natus  inlquis,^*  v.  I4. 

*»  Thus,  in  the  next  note—"  All  these  considerations 
««  put  together,  Electra  might  assist  at  the  assassination 
*'  of  her  mother,  consistently  with  the  strongest  feelings 
*«  of  piety  and  a8Fection/'  Notes  on  the  Ep.  to  the 
Pisos,  p.  112. 


u 


a 


<i 


ii 


<< 


<•' 


u 


it 


t( 


u 


IS 


NOTES.  i^y 

say,—"  This  cannot  be  an  indispensable  rule ; 
"  unifonnity  cannot  be  essentially  requisite  to  the' 
manners :  for,  what,  if  the  Poet  should  take 
for  the  subject  of  his  imitation  a  person  whose 
manners  are  not  uniform?"— The  answer,  or 
second  part  of  the  precept,"  is,-«  then,  that 
want  of  uniformity  must  be  such  as  constitutes 
^^  the  rery  character  itself;  for  tliis  falls  within 
"  the  rule;  the  '  very  inconsistency'  of  the  cha- 
"  racter  (to  use  the  ingenious  critic's  own  words,) 
being,  in  this  case,  '  of  the  essence  of  its  uni- 
formity.' "    I  confess  I  do  not  here  perceive  any 
thing  that  can  properly  be  called  tautology;  for 
though  the  philosopher  says,  indeed,  in  the  second 
part  of  the  precept  no  more  than  he  meant  to  say 
in  the  Jirst ;  yet  he  plainly  apprehended  it  was 
more  than  he  might  be  understood  to  say,  and 
therefore  he  subjoined  this  necessarj'  explanation. 
What  he  says  is,  in  short,  only  this—"  Let  the 
"  manners  be  uniform :  an  ununiforni  character 
"  is  no  exception  to  this  rule '." 

_^ The 

*  Le  Bossu  ohseives,  very  well,  in  explaining  this  rule, 
ihat  whenever  the  Poet  admit*  this  inequality  of  manners, 
.,  !  ''°".''.""  fa're  remarquer  aux  auditeurs,  que  cette 
'^  megalite  est  un  caractere  qu'il  dome  exprh  a  un  person- 
"  "age."  Livre  iv.  cK.  7.  The  following  comparison  is 
no  unhappy  illustration  of  Aristotle's  precept.  "  11  arrive 
"  quelquefois  qu'une  meme  personne  est  ^^a/^  ^r/W^a/* 
«  {iluc^Mi  A«/«(^(^)  en  meme  terns.  Parceque  le  carac 
«  tere,  qui  dans  la  plus-part  des  hommcs  ressemble  au 

"  soleil, 

I.  a 


% 


-^Hlf 


148  NOTES. 

Tl)€  Tifrellius  of  Horace  offered  liiinself  natu- 
turally  enough,  upon  tliis  occasion,  to  the  com- 
mentators, as  an  illustration.  We  need  not,  how- 
ever, 3uppose  Aristotle  to  have  thought  of  so  very 
fantastic  and  comic  a  species  of  incoherence. 
Mutability  and  caprice  are  sometimes  found  in 
higher  characters,  where  they  are  less  ludicrous 
in  their  appearance,  and,  sometimes,  very  serious 
in  their  effects.  And  though,  perhaps,  any  character 
of  the  kind  may  have  too  much  of  a  comic  cast 
to  accord  with  our  ideas  of  Tragic  dignity,  we 
have  no  reason  to  cohclude,  tliat  it  would  have 
found  the  same  difficulty  of  admittance  upon  tlie 
Greek  stage,  where  the  Tragic  muse  did,  not 
unfrequently,  condescend  to  be  seen,  **  Aak^voiv 

I  shall  only  add  to-  this  note  the  following  pas- 
sage  from  the  commentary  of  Victorius,  which 
appears  to  me  to  explain  well,  in  few  words,  the 
meaning,  and  the  spirit,  of  Aristotle's  precept. 
**  Studens  ostendere  quantopere  hoc  praeceptum 

custodiendum  sit,   aflirmat,   si  quis  fort^ 

varins  dissimilisque  sibi  inductus  ^e/;2c7  sit,  eum, 
talem  in  omni  facto  totius  fabulae  servandum 
essp,  tit  cB/uabilitas  d  Poet  A  custodiatur  in 
iiaturd  ilia  ivcequabili  osfendaidd :  quod  non 
fieret,  si  aliquis  levis,  nee  in  eodum  proposito 

*^  })ermanens, 


a 


<( 


a 


a 


a 


iC 


"  soleil,  dont  Tegallre  cousiste  a  paroitre  tojours  le  meme, 
"  en  d'autrcs  ressemble  a  la  Uinc,  dont  regalit6  n'est  qu*a 
*'  changer  quatrc  fois  dc  faces  en  un  mois.*' — Ik  p.  450. 


NOTES.  x^9 

^'*  permanens,  inductus,  paul6  posted  firmus  et 
"  obstinati  animi  fingeretur.  Si  morum  igitur 
''  itKcqualitas  naturague  inconstantia  constanter 
^1  servanda  est,  quanta  magis  natura  indoksque 
"  stabilk,  par  sibi  ac  jugis  ad  extremum  servari 
"  debet." 

NOTE    112.  , 

P.  144.    We  have  ax  example  of  man- 
ners UNNECESSARU.y  BAD,  IN'  THE  CHARACTER 

OF  Menelaus,  &C. 

Mr.  Potter,  in  the  introduction  to  his  translation 
of  ttie  Orestes,  says  of  tiiis  passage,  that  it  "  may 
•'  be  considered  as  a  mysterious  oracular  sentence, 
"  which  wants  an  expounder."     I  can  only  say! 
that  I  tijink  the  commentators  would  have  reason 
to  congratulate  themselves,  if  no  sentence  of  this 
mangled  work  wanted  an  expositor  more  than  this. 
WheUier   we  read  «Vayx«.o»,  or   i>xy^x,H ;— &n 
unnecessary  example  of  bad  manners,  or  an  exam- 
ple of  unnecessary  badness  of  nwnners ;  tlte  sense 
seems  evidently   the   same:    and   that   Aristotle 
could  not  mean,  what  the  excellent  translator  of 
^schylus  and  Euripides  seems  to  think  he  might 
mean— to  ''excuse  the  Poet  upon  the,  necessity'^ 
sufficiently  appears  from  anotlier  passage,  at  tiie 
end   of  ttie    25th  diapter,    [Transl.  "part  IV^ 
Sect.  7.]  where  this  character  is  again  mention^ 
as  an  instance  of  vitious  manners,  excused  by  no 

^  3  neces- 


150  NOTES. 

necessity — fx)i  oivxym<;  ^<r»j;. — Mr,  Potter  com- 
plains of  "  the  little  light  which  the  passage 
"  derives  from  the  connexion :"  I  tliink  without 
reason.  For  as  the  other  examples  given  are 
examples  of  the  molatiui  of  his  other  precepts, 
relative  to  propriety,  and  unlfonnityy  of  manners^ 
the  connection  plainly  indicates  this  to  be  an  ex- 
ample of  the  similar  violation  of  his  first  rule — 
that  the  manners  should  be  good.  So  far,  then, 
seems  to  be  clear.  In  what  particular  view  Aris- 
totle thought  the  badness  of  the  character  not 
necessary,  aiay  be,  indeed,  less  clear.  I  should 
suppose  him  to  mean,  that  the  historical,  or  tra- 
ditional, character  of  Menelaus,  and  the  obser- 
vance of  the  0|t*a*oTf,  by  no  means  obliged  Euripides 
to  paint  him  in  *  such  colours.  With  respect  to 
the  plea,  that  it  was  necessary,  because  "  the 
*'  drama  could  not,"  otherxvise,  **  have  been 
*"  worked  up  to  this  terrible  height  of  Tragic 
"  distress,"  Aristotle's  answer  would,  perhaps, 
have  been  similar  to  that  which  he  mak^s  upon 
another  occasion  :  —  e.  e.  the  Poet  should  not, 
originally,  have  so  constructed  his  plan,  as  to 
bring  upon  himself  the  necessity  of  committing 
so  great  a  fault: — i^  ot^x^<;  y*f  i  Sn  c-WH-ocaiaf 
TOiSTJi?.  [sc.  /AvStff],  cap,  xxiv. 


NOTE    S. 


151 


NOTE    113. 

P-  H4-5-     Of   uxuniform  manners,    in 

THE    IpHIGENIA    AT    AuLIS,    &C. 

How  does  this  appear,  independently  of  the 
name  of  this  great  critic  ?     Iphigeiiia  is  drawn 
indeed   at   first,   fearful   and   suppliant:    and 
surely  with  tlie  greatest  obseivance  of  nature. 
The  Recount  of  her  destination  to  the  altar  was 
sudden,  and  without  the  least  preparation :  and, 
as  Lucretius  well  observes,  in  commenting  her 
case,   nubendi    tempore   in    ipso;    when 
her  thoughts  were  all  employed,  and,  accordin<» 
to  the  sim{)licity  of  those  times,  confessed  to 
be  so,  on  her  promised  nuptials.     The  cause 
of  such  destination  too,   as  appeared  at  first, 
was  the   private  family  interest  of  Menelaus. 
All    this  justifies,    or    rather    demands,    the 
strongest  ex[)re3sion  of  female  fear  and  weak- 
ness.    But  she  afterwards  recants  and  volun- 
tarily devotes  herself  to  the  altar,     And  this, 
with  the  same  strict  attention  to  probability. 
She  had  now  informed  herself  of  the  impor- 
tance of  the  case.     Her  devotement  was  the 
demand  of  Apollo,  and  the  joint  [>etiti(>n  of  all 
Greece.     The  glory  of  her  country,  the  dignity 
and  interest  of  her  family,  the  lite  of  the  gene- 
nerous  Achilles,  and  her  own  future  fame,  were, 
all,  nearly  concerned  in  it.    All  this  considered, 


44 

a 

(( 

(C 

c< 

«( 

« 

it 

n 

it 

(( 

a 

ti 

a 

u 

a 

a 

it 

it 

ti 

t( 

tt 

ti 

ti 


L4 


**  together 


152  NOTES. 

"  together  Mith  the  high,  heroic  sentiments  of 
**  those  times,  and  the  superior  merit,  ^s  was  be- 
"  lieved,  of  voluntary  devotement,  Ipliigenia's 
"  character  must  have  been  very  unfit  for  the 
"  distress  of  a  whole  Tragedy  to  turn  upon,  if  she 
"  had  not,  in  the  end,  discovered  the  readiest  sub- 
"  mission  to  her  appointment.  But,  to  shew 
**  with  what  wonderful  propriety  the  Poet  knew 
"  to  sustain  his  characters,  we  find  her,  after  all, 
"  and  notwithstanding  the  heroism  of  the  change, 
**  in  a  strong  and  passionate  apostrophe  to  her 
"  native  Mycenae,  confessing  some  involuntary 
**  apprehensions  and  regrets,  the  remains  of  that 
"  instinctive  abhorrence  of  death,  which  had 
"  before  so  strongly  -possessed  her. 

Once  the  bright  star  of  Greece 

But  I  submit  to  die. 

"  Tliis,  I  take  to  be  not  only  a  full  vindication  of 
"  the  consistency  of  Ipbigenia's  character,  but  as 
"  delicate  a  stroke' of  nature  as  is,  p(;rha[js,  to  be 
"  found  in  any  writer."  \Commcnlcrij  on  the  Ep, 
to  the  Pisoi,  &c.  vol.  i.  p.  1 1 3,  &c.] 

If  all  1  knew  of  tlie  Tragedy  in  question  was 
from  this  ingenious  defence,  I  should  certainly 
acquit  Euripides.  I  cannot  acquit  him,  or  can 
only  partially  acquit  hiui,  when  I  read  the  Tragedy 
itself.     The  fact  perhaps  is,  that  the  question, 

whetlier 


NOTES.  ,5^ 

whether  the  critic's  censure  be  just  or  not,  cannot 
possibly  be  decided  by  any  general  statement  of 
the  case.     That  Iphigenia,  so  circumstanced  as 
she  is  here,  and  very  justly,  described  to  be,  m'rht 
at  first  be  timid  and  suppliant,  and,  at  last,  m'eet 
death  With  resolution,  and  this,  without  any  incon- 
sistence, or  duplicity  of  character,  will  hardly  be 
disputed.     But  tiie  question  is,  whether  Euripides 
has  actually  so  drawn  this  timidity,  and  this  reso- 
lution, as  to  preserve  the  unity  of  character.     To 
determine  this  fairly,  we  must,  at  last,  have  re- 
course to  the  detail  of  the  Poet's  execution,  and 
the  actual  impression  which,  on  the  whole,  it  leaves 
upon  the  readers  mind.     All  depends  here  upon 
degree  and  vmnner.     A  single  nuance  in  the  co- 
louring, a  slight  depression  or'elevarion  of  tone 
in  the  suppliant,  or  the  heroine,  may  be  sufficient 
to  determine  the  impression  this  way,  or  that. 
What  this  impression  was  upon,Aristotle's  mind' 
It  may  be  observed  that  he  has  marked  very  pre- 
cisely  and   clearly    by   the   expression,    'OTAEN 
BOIKEN  -H  'iKETErorXA  TH.  TSTEPH. :_«  the 
"  supplicating  Iphigenia  is  nothixg   like  the 
'  Iphigenia  of  the  conclusion:'    The  expression 
I  think,  does  not  imply,  that  he  thought  the  mere 
circumstance  of  her  supplicating  at  first  for  life 
and  recanting  afterwards,  was,  of  itself,  necessa- 
rily inconsistent,   but,  that  the  ntanner  in  which 
she  supplicated  was  such,  as  to  make  her,  in  that 
part,  appear  to  be  a  different  character,  another 

person, 


>» 


n, 


JI4  MOTES. 

pei^soTiy  from  what  she  appears  to  be  when  sh^ 
recants. 

My  own  opinion  I  confess  io  be,  that  though 
the  considerations  suggested  in  this  ingenious  de- 
fence of  Euripides  may  prove  the  censure  of 
Aristotle  to  be  too  strongly,  or,  at  least,  too  gejie^ 
rally y  expressed,  yet  they  do  not  prove  it  to  be 
without  foundation.  I  say,  too  getKrallij^  because 
perhaps  there  is  but  one  passage  in  the  speech  of 
the  suppliant  Ipliigenia,  to  which  tte  OTAEM 
•o»x£K  is  fairly  applicable,  in  Its  full  force.  Hef 
$peech,  Ei  fAiif  toy  0^(pt(ag,  Sec.  V.  1211,  which,  oil 
the  whole,  is  highly  pathetic,  ends  with  these  un-* 
happy  lines : 

-      •      -      -      fiottvtroct  S*  01;  evx^Tai 

eumv  KAKnZ  ZHN  KPEIIION   H  GA- 
NEIN   KAAXIS*.  t;.  1249.— 

I  leave  it  to  the  reader  to  determine,  whether  a?2i/ 
intervening  circilTi.^tances,  that  can  be  imagined, 
will  make  it  at  all  conceivable,  that  the  sa7ne  Iphi- 
genia,  should,  hi  the  short  space  of  thne  taken  up 
by  the  recital  of,  at  most,  only  35  lines  of  dialogue  **, 

experience 

*  This  is  softened  in  Mr.  Potter's  version  : 

-     -     -     -     -     "  of  his  senses  is  he  reft, 
'*  Who  hath  a  wish  to  die ;  for  life,  though  ill, 
'*  Excels  whate'cr  tlierc  is  of  good  in  death.         *** 

V.  1365. 
^  The  reader  of  Euripides  will  ohserve,  that  Iphigenia 
continues  the  same  strain  of  consternation  and  lamentation 
after  the  speech  of  her  father  in  reply  to  her  supplication; 


NOTES.  ,^5 

experience  such  a  total  change  of  sentiments,  as 
to  express  the  most  lieroic  resolution,  and  the  ut- 
most  sensibility  to  the  glory  of  dying  for  her 
country ;  as  to  say, — 

It  seems  probable,  that  AristoUe  had  chiefly  iti 
view  the  particular  lines  I  have  quoted ;  and  had 
he  any  way  pointed  his  censure  to  that  passage- 
hid   he   said,  «Vi.  f.,x£.    i   'Orrni  ;xfrii;«er«,^&c. 

quoting,  or  referring  to,  the  verses,  I  think  ther^ 
could  have  been  no  objection  to  the  justice  of  his 
criticism. 

Gravina,  who  has  also  defended  Euripides  in 
his  book  Delia  Tragedia,  lays  gn^at  strcss  upon  a 
circumstance,  which  does,  indeed,  seem  to  be  of 
considerable  moment  in  the  Poet's  justification ; 
I  mean,  the  effect  of  necessity  in  producing  courage 

^  and 

(V.  125s,  &c.)  and  even  at  v.  1317,  she  says  she  dies, 
mptously  murdered  by  an  impious  father  ;" 

Avoa-iu  war^^. 
From  the  end  of  this  monostrophic  lamentation  to  her 
heroic  speech  v.  1638,  there  are,  I  think,  but  35  lines. 

u  ci"     "     ".    ■     "  ^'''*  ^'^^""^  ^  B^ive  my  life. 
^^  May  me,  demolish  Troy  :  for  these  shall  be 

2  ^"""^  ^"^^  '"^  monuments,  my  children  these, 
'  My  nuptials^  and  my  glory." 

Potter's  EurJp.  v.  1549. 


J54  MOTES. 

person^  from  what   she  appears  to  be  when  sh^ 
recants. 

My  own  opinion  I  confess  io  be,  that  though 
the  considerations  suggested  in  this  iniz^nious  de- 
fence of  Euripides  may  prove  the  censure  of 
Aristotle  to  be  too  strongly,  or,  at  least,  too  gtnt^ 
rally,  expressed,  yet  they  do  not  prov^  it  to  be 
without  foundation.  I  say,  too  gemralli/,  because 
perhaps  there  is  but  one  passage  ill  tlie  speech  of 
the  suppliant  I[)higenia,  to  which  the  OTAEJt 
iotx£¥  is  fairly  applicable,  in  its  full  force.  Her 
speech,  Ei  fAtp  rov  O^f f«?,  &c.  v.  1 2  n ,  which,  on 
the  whole,  is  highly  pathetic,  ends  with  these  un- 
happy lines: 

euvBiV   KAKaZ   ZHN  KFEIILON    H  GA- 
NEIN  KAAIIS*.  v.  1249— 

I' leave  it  to  the  reader  to  determine,  whether  a?7i/ 
interrening  circUfr.^tances,  that  can  be  imagined, 
will  make  it  at  all  conceivable,  that  the  sa7ne  Iphi- 
genia,  should,  /W/^e  shori  space  of  time  taken  up 
by  the  recital  of,  at  most,  only  35  lines  of  dialogue^ 

experience 

•  This  is  softeneJ  in  Mr.  Potter's  version  : 

-     -     -     -     -     "  of  his  senses  is  he  reft, 
"  Who  hath  a  wish  to  die ;  for  life,  though  ill, 
'*  Excels  whatever  die  re  is  of  good  in  death. 

V.  1365. 
*»  The  reader  of  Euripides  will  observe,  that  Iphigenia 
continues  the  same  strain  of  consternation  and  lamentation 
after  the  speech  of  her  father  in  reply  to  her  supplication; 


NOTES.  ,^j 

experience  such  a  total  change  of  sentiments,  as 
to  expicss  the  most  lieroic  resolution,  and  the  ut- 
most sensibility  to  the  glory  of  dying  for  her 
country ;  as  to  say, — 

It  seems  probable,  that  Aristotle  had  chiefly  itt 
view  the  particular  lines  I  have  quoted ;  and  had 
he  any  way  pointed  his  censure  to  that  passage- 
had  be  said,  ii,y  „.«.  ,'  -OrTXlX'  .•x.r.u«T«,°&c. 
quoting,  or  referring  to,  the  verses,  I  think  ther6 
could  have  been  no  objection  to  the  justice  of  his 
criticism. 

Gravina,  who  has  also  defended  Euripides  in 
h.s  book  Ddk  Tragedia,  lays  great  stress  upon  a 
circumstance,  which  does,  indeed,  seem  to  be  of 
considerable  moment  in  the  Poet's  justification  ; 
I  mean,  the  eflTect  of  necessity  in  producing  courage 

__^ —__._____ *^"d 

(V.  1255  &c.)  and  even  at  v.  131 7,  she  says  she  dies, 
mptously  murdertdby  an  Impious  father :" 

From  the  end  of  this  monostrophic  lamenution  to  her 
heroic  speech  v.  1638,  there  are,  I  think,  but  35  lines. 

..  *ci'  "  ".  ■  "  ^""^  ^"^^^  ^  g'^«  "ly  •'*■<>. 

^    Slay  me,  demolish  Troy  :  for  these  shall  be 

2  »r^  ''™*  ""^  monuments,  my  children  thejc. 
My  nuptials,  and  my  glory." 

Potter's  Eurip.  v.  1545. 


156  NOTES. 

and  resolution.  *'  Non  6  maraviglia,  se  Ifigenia, 
"  quantunque  per  naturalezza  del  scsso,  tiinida, 
'^  ed  amorosa  della  vita,  sinchh  la  pcteva  spcrare ; 
"  poi  7'esa  forte  dalla  necesaitd,  madre  spesso 
"  anche  delle  virtu  niorali,  come  anima  gene- 
"  rosamente  educata,  disprczza  la  morte,  e  cangia 
'*  I'amor  della  vita  in  compiacenza  di  gleria.  II 
"  che  alia  giornata  anche  osserviamo  in  persone 
*'  di  nascita  e  d'animo  vile,  che  condotte  alia 
"  morte,  arditamente  Tabbracciano,  quantunque 
"  al  primo  avviso  costernate  rimanessero  ;  perchh 
"  ridea  ddla  necessltct  non  acta  mata  ancor  la 
*'  stia  forza.''  {Sect.  19.] 

This  seems  much  to  the  purpose ;  and  it  is  sup- 
ported by  its  agreement  with  uhat  we  find  in  the 
Tragedy  itself.  For  the  change  in  the  sentiments 
and  language  of  Iphigenia  is  not,  as  we  have  seen, 
produced  before  the  scene  in  Trochaics  between 
Clytaemnestra  and  Achilles;  the  very  scene  in 
which  the  inevitable  necessity  of  the  sacrifice  is 
first  made  clearly  apparent.  The  effect  of  this 
on  the  resolution  of  Iphigenia  is  visible  also  in 
her  speech : 

-  -   -  TOL  I*  AATNA0'  ritnv  yccc^Ts^nv  i  cocctov, 

AXXa  Tioci  ere  tv9'  o^otv  p/^17,  fJLV}  SiccfiXriQr,^  Tf  ^ro;, 
KM  nAEON  nPAHUMEN  OTAEN.  -  -  - 


AXX    AMHXANON- 
EXXocSi,  &c. 


V.  1372. 
The 


NOTES.  i^y 

The  learned  Mr.  Marldand,   in  his  excellent 
edition  of  the  two  Ipkigemas,  defends  Euripides 
upon  very  different  ground.     He  admits  the  in- 
consistence, not  only  in  the  character  of  Iphigenia, 
'  but  in  all  the  characters  of  the  play,  except  Cly- 
taemnestra ^  and  even  in  the  chorus.     But  all  tl)is 
he  supposes  to  have  been  intended  by  the  Poet, 
as  a  moral  lesson— a  striking  picture  of  the  "  levity 
"  and  inconstancy  of  the  human  mind:'    And  he 
wonders,  which  I  cannot  say  I  do,  that  tliis  should 
have  escaped  the  dy^mi%  of  Aristotle  \ 

NOTE    114. 

P-  145-6.    Hexce  it  is  evident  that  the 

DEVELOPMENT  ALSO,  &C.  -  -  - 

Heinsius  pronounces  this  whole  passage,  to  the 
words,  ty  rta  Oil  ra  Zo^.— inclusively,  to  be  cer- 
tainly out  of  its  proper  place  \     And  I  should  be 
of  his  opinion,  if  such  digressive  and  parenthetical 
insertions  were  not  very  usual  with  Aristotle.  *  The 
expression,  however,  should  be  observed  \—(pM(^oy 
iy  0T«   KAI   roLi  Au(ra?,  &c.  that    "  the  develop- 
ment also"  8cc.  i.e.  as  well  as  the  other  incidents 
of  the  fable,  just  mentioned.    Most  of  the  versions 
neglect  tlie   word  xa*,  which  is  important,    and 
greatly  helps  tlie   connection.      This   digression, 
however,  though  not  unrelated,  is  but  slightly  and 
obliquely  related,  to  his  present  subject ;  and  seems 
_  introduced 

**  P.  190.      Note  on  v.  1375. 
•  De,  Trag,  cap.  xii. 


lit  MOTES. 

introduced  rather  «Vo  /Atjp^ayrif,  and  in  violation  of 

his  QiWX\  rule — raro  lAtroe,  tsto   i!  ci¥etyx»iou  n'  flx^. 

It  interrupts  the  connection,  and  obscures  the 
purport,  of  the  chapter;  and  though  we  allow  it 
to  be  where  the  author  placed  it,  we  may  fairly 
question,  whether  he  has  placed  it  where  it 
should  be. 

NOTE  115. 

P.  146.     Machinery. 

Aw9  fAf»;^«Hic.— It  appears  from  Jul.  Poll,  lib.iv. 
cap.  19.  tliat  the  term,  /aux*''^*  was  not  applied  in- 
discriminately to  the  machinery  of  the  play-house 
•in  general,  but  was  appropriated  to  that  particular 
machine,  in  which  Gods  and  Heroes  made  their 
appearance  in  tlie  air.  Mu;^ayti  tt,  hit;  ^lix^uci  xat 
fi^waf  rug  iv  al^i. — I  hope  it  was  something  better 
than  the  Mnp^ayu  of  the  French  opera,  so  pleasantly 
described  by  Rousseau : — 

"  Les  chars  des  Dieux  et  des  Dresses  sont 
composes  de  quatre  solives  encadr^es  et  sus- 
pendues  k  une  grosse  corde  en  forme  d  escarpo- 
lette;   entre  ces   solives  est  une   planche  en 
travers,  sur  laquelle  le  J)ieu  s'asseye,  et  sur  le 
devant  pend  un  morceau  de  grosse  toile  bar- 
bouillee,  qui  sert  de  nuage  cl  ce  magnifique  char. 
On  voit  vers  le  bas  de  la  machine  Tillumination 
de   deux  ou  trois  chandelles  puantes  et  ra^ 
"  mouch^es,   qui,   tandis  que  le  personnage  se 
"  d^mene  et  crie  en   branlant  dans  son  escar- 
4  '*  polette, 


€( 


tc 


u 


€t 


U 


a 


(( 


<( 


<c 


a 


N    O    T    E    &  ,5, 

polette,  Tenfumcnt  tout  k  son  aise.     Encen§ 

digne  de  la  divinity  *." 

The  account  of  tlie  macliinery  of  a  Greek 
Theatre,  in  the  chapter  of  Jul.  Pollux  above  re. 
ferret!  to,  i3  curious,  and  amusing,  as  far  as  it  is 
intelligible. 

NOTE     116. 

P.  146.  Or  tjie  returx  of  the  Greeks 
IN  the  Iliad. 

Ka<  sV  THi  lAIAAr  rx  m^i  rov  inoirXuy,      It  has 

been  disputed,  whether  Aristotle  here  speaks  of 
tlie  Iliad  of  Homer,  or  of  some  Tragedy  called 
The  Iliad,  See  Dacicr^$  note.— But,  if  we  suppose 
the  text  to  be  right  here,  I  see  not  how  we  can 
reasonably  reject  the  first  of  these  interpretations. 
*H  IAIA2,  as  Beni  has  well  observed,  can  only  be, 
the  Iliad,— i.  e.  Homers  Iliad.    Dacier  supposes 
the  Tragedy  to  have  been  called,  ''  The  Iliad,  or, 
"  The  return  of  the  Greeks  f  and  to  be  that 
mentioned  by  Longinus,  Sect.  15,  and  attributed 
to  Sophocles.     But,  even  supposing  a  Tragedy  to 
be  meant,  it  seems   very  clear  from  Aristotle  s 
expression,  that  the  title  ujust  have  been,  'H  lA.a^, 
only;   for   he  say^,    EN  tj,   Ix^cl^,   ta  HEPI  tov 
u-TQTrXm —i.  e.  *'  the  circumstances,  or  incidents, 
relative  to  the  return  of  the  Greelcs,  in  [the 
Tragedy  of  J  The  Iliad:  —  So,  cap.  xxiv.— i,  t» 
Otv^(ru^—rx  iri^»  rm,  ix9f(riy.— Indeed,  The  Ilial 

^^^__^__^___ _____^„  taken 

•  NouveJlc  EJoise,  Partll.  La.xxiil 


it 


it 


rBo  NOTES. 

taken  alone,  seems  an  improbable  title  for  a  Tra- 
gedy ;  but  Dacier's  junction  is  still  more  impro- 
bable. He  might  as  well  have  imagined  a  Tragedy 
with  this  title-~HO^u<nrna,  'H,  'H  EK0E2I5:.— As  to 

the  Tragedy  of  Sophocles  mentioned  by  Longinus, 
it  seems  clearly  to  have  been  his  Polyxena  *. 

Supposing,  then,  the  text  not  to  be  defective, 
we  cannot,  I  think,  avoid  understanding  Aristotle 
to  speak  of  the  machinery,  (to  use  the  word  in  his 
general  sense,)  in  the  second  book  of  the  Iliad, 
where  Minerva  descends  to  prevent  the  return  of 
the   Greeks  ^      It  is  true   indeed,  as  has   been 
objected,  that  an  instance  drawn  from  an  Epic 
Poem  is  not  what  one  would  expect  here,  where 
the  subject  is  Tragedy  ;  and,  that  though  there  be, 
in  this  instance,  a  difficulty  solved— a  knot  cut— 
yet  this  xvo-k,  is  not,  properly,  Xutrtc  /xuOs,  in  that 
sense,    in   which  Aristotle    applies    the   term  in 
cap.  xviii  \  to  the  final  denouement  of  a  Tragic 
fable.— We  must  therefore  suppose  him  to  have 
produced   this,  merely  as  an  obvious   and  well 
known  example  of  the  sort  of  supernatural  inter- 
position, or  machinery,  that  would  be  improper  in 
the  XucTJc  of  a  Tragedy.     For,  that  he  intended  to 
censure  the  "  ministeria  Deorum,''  so  necessary  to 
the  Epic  Poem,  and  so  frequent  in  the  great  model 
of  all  Epic  Poems,  cannot  be  imagined  u  ithout 
absurdity,  and  is  by  no  means  necessarily  implied, 
as  Dacier  seems  to  think,  in  this  interpretation. 

Such 


»  See  the  note  of  Ruhnkenius  in  Toup's  Longinus. 
^  II.  B.  155,  &c.         ;=  Transl.  Part.  II.  Sect.  18. 


NOTES.  i6t 

Such  appears  to  me  to  be, the  only  meaning, 
and  the  best  apology,  which  the  passage  will  bear, 
taking  for  granted  the  integrity  of  the  original. 
But  of  this,   I   confess,    I   doubt.      M.  Batteux 
translates—**  la  petite  Iliade."     But  if  we  admit 
that  sense,   as  Aristotle  certainly  would  not  have 
called  that  Poem  the  Iliad,  without  distinction, 
we  must  necessarily  suppose  the  text  defective,  and 
tlie  word   MIKPA*  to  be  omitted  ^ ;  and  it  seems 
very  probable  that  this  was  the  case.     The  illus- 
tration, indeed,  will  still  be  drawn  from  an  Epic. 
Poem ;  but  from  one  of  an  irregular  and  historic 
structure,     consisting    of  a  string    of    ill-united 
stories  ',*  and'which  seems  to  have  been  considered 
as  a  sort  of  seed-plot,  or  nursery,  of  subjects  for 
the  use  of  the  Tragic  Poets :  so  that  in  referring 
to  it,  Aristotle  may  be  understood  to  refer  to  such 
Tragedies  as  were  founded  on  it;   of  which  he 
enumerates  himself  no  fewer  than  eight,  and  one 
of  these  was  called  AnonAOTZ  ;  taken,  I  suppose, 
like  the   Poly. vena  of  Sophocles   mentioned   by 
Longinus,  from  that  part  of  the  Little  Iliad,  which 
related  the  detention  of  the  Greeks  in  the  Thracian 
Chersonese,  and  the  appearance  of  the  ghost  of 
Achilles  demanding  the  sacrifice  of  Polyxena.  See 
the  Hecuba  of  Euripides,  v.  35,  &c.  and  104,  &c. — 
["  and 

^  —  Tuv  MIKPAN  iTuoJa— and,  U  mg  MIKPAS  Imo^^. 
cap.  xxiii. 

*  Sec  Aristotle's   account  of  it,  cap.  xxiii,  Tran«I. 
Part  in.  Sect.!. 

VOL.  lU  U 


,62  NOTES. 

and  the  fine  description  of  the  sacrifice,  v.  5i9,&c. 

— In  Mr.  Potters  translation,  v.  36 — 102 — 501. 


NOTi=:  117. 

P.  147.     Or  or  INDOLENT . 

fuivfji^ :—  indolent  —  nonchalant.  Ilesychius 
explains  PaSv^©*,— 'O  MH  nONHTIKOl  «'XX^ 
EKATT02,  It  is  improperly  rendered,  "  timide,'' 
by  M.  Batteux,  and  "  mansueto  "  by  the  Italian 
translators. 

NOTE    118. 

p.  147.  Should  draw  an  example  ap- 
proaching RATHER  TO  A  GOOD,  THAN  TO  A 
HARD  AND  FEROCIOUS,  CHARACTER. 

The  original  is — *Our«  x«i  tov  iromrtiv,  ^t^H^iv^i^ 

tin  T«y  i!9wv,   firutxita?  ttoiiiv  wa(»fuyfA»  n  vnXnfo- 

A  passage  that  has  much  perplexed  and  divided 
the  commentators.  Of  all  the  explanations  which 
this  perplexity  has  produced,  that  of  Dacier  is 
the  most  improbable  and  ill  founded.  He  forces 
/«9u|i»^  into  the  sense  of,  emportS,  furieux,  and 
makes  it  **  encherir  sur  «fyix<>»."    Eir#«4xi*(»,  he 

• 

wrenches  from  the  obvious  and  proper  sense  m 
which  it  is  continually  used  by  Aristotle,  into  that 
o{  probability.  And  the  result  of  this  violent 
operation  upon  the  passage,  b  the  following  strange 
K  version : 


it 


€i 


NOTES.  163 

version  : — "  II  faut  tout  de  m^me,  qu  un  Poete 
qui  veut  imiter  un  homme  colere  et  emporte^  ou 
*'  quelqu'  autre  caractere  serablable,  se  remette 
bien  plus  devant  les  yeux  ce  que  la  colere  doit 
/aire  vraiseinblabtement  (i.  e.  Iwrnxtia^)  que  ce 
"  quelle  a  J  ait    (i.e.   i   <rxA»jfOT>iT(^!)    et   cest 
"  aiiisi,"  &c.     I  may  venture  to  leave  all  this  to 
,the  learned  reader's  rejection,   without  any  fartlier    ' 
comment.     I  shall  only  just  observe,  that  the  ex- 
pression, KAI  i^y.  KAI  /^9.  evidently  marks  dif- 
ferent characters ;  not,  as  Dacier  makes  it,  different 
degrees  only  of  the  same  character. 

Heinsius  first  suggested,  that  the  phrase  ^Tng*. 
xiioct;  n  <rxA»)f  0T»iT(5^,  was  elliptical,  and  (aocXKqv  to  be 
.understood.  But  in  spite  of  the  ''Attica  venu^tas;' 
I  am  much  more  inclined  to  suspect  an  omission 
of  the  word.     Aristotle  would  hardly  have  used  a 
mode  of  expression  so  unavoidably  ambiguous — 
or  rather,  that  would,  almost  unavoidably,  lead  to 
a  wrong  sense ;  for,  the  fact  is,  that  all  the  com- 
mentators, before  Heinsius,  understood  the  i  as 
indeed  every  reader,  I  believe,  would  at  first  na- 
turally understand    it,   in   the   disjunctive  sense 
of,  or.  Besides  this,  I  doubt  whether  any  example 
of  this  elliptic  phrase  occurs  in  Aristotle's  works. 
That  it  may,  I  will  not  take  upon  me  to  deny  ; 
but  it  seems,  at  least,  very  unusual.     An  instance 
of  it  I  have  not  found  ;  but  the  reader  may  find 
many  instances  of  the  full  phrase,  /x«aaoi^  jJ,  even  iu 

M  2  this 


^ 


\ 


164  NOTES. 

tliis  treatise  \     However,   one,  or   the  otlier,  of 
these  suppositions,  it  seems  necessary  to  adopt. 
The  passage  will  then,  without  forcing  the  words 
iTTinxiix  and  (rxXH^oTUf  from  their  usual  and  proper 
signification,  aflTord  a  clear  and  consistent  meaning. 
EirniKi^cc  is  used,  I  think,  here,  as  it  is  in  cap.  xiii. 
in  the  general  sense  of  good  ^,     ZKXufoTHf  plainly 
relates  only  to  his  first  instance,  of  the  o^y^xQ*,  the 
angry  character,  of  which  it  seems  to  express  the 
extreme  degree.     In  the  Ethics  ad  Nicom.  we 
V  have— AFPIOI  xa*  2KAHPOI,  as  synonymous,  or 
very  nearly  so  *.     A  passage  of  Plato  may  serve 
to  illustrate  and  confirm  this  sense  of  the  word. 
Speaking  of  the  9v/xo£»^k,  or  irascible  nature,  he 
says,   it  may  produce  the  dy^icv:—K(Ki  o^Owc  ^£it 

r^a^iv,  iy^i^^oy  i»  lU'  MAAAON  A'  EniTAQEK 
TOT  AE0NT02,  2KAHPOTEPON  ti  x«i  x«^ixaf 
yiyvoix  «\,  ii  to  iJx®*.— And  just  before— ATPIO- 
THTOS  Tf  x«i  SKAHPOTHTOS,  x<xi  »i  /A«Xax»«?  rt 

The 


*  »  Cap.  i.  ^<ri0^oyoif  MAAAON  H  srwrmjv.  —  cap.  ix. 
MAAAON  Tojv  A«^tfv  .  -  -  H  T«v  ftrrf «».  —  cap.  xxiv. 
'K^om^ti^^au  T£  oJi/mra  nm  ilwm,  MAAAON  H  li^a^a  koi 

»>  So,  in  the  Rht,  lib.  i.  cap.  5.  i^Jnam  is  plainly  used  as 
synonymous  with  x^^^-  ^^^^  defining  Uic  word  x(W- 
^i.Ma,  he  sayg— ^  Ji  »«  EHIEIKEIS  avJff?,  [sc  f*^o«  iiVi] 
XPH2T04>1A0I. 

<=  Lib.  iv.  cap.  8.  ed.  ff'ilk, 

^  De  Rcpub.  lib.  iii.  td.  Mass,  p.  228. 


NOTES.  165 

Tlie  sense  of  the  passage,  then,  will  be,  that,  in 
order  to  reconcile  the/r.y^'precept,  of  the  xf'Jrov, 
with  the  thirdy  of  the  iiAoioy^  the  character  should 
be  brought  as  near  to  a  good  one,  as  is  consistent 
with  the  circumstance  of  likeness.     Thus,  if  such 
a  character  as  that  of  Achilles  is  to  be  drawn,  its 
striking  features  are  to  be  preserved,  but,  at  the 
same  time,  to  be  rather  improved  and  softened, 
tlian  exaggerated.     For  the  expression  must  be 
observed.     Aristotle  does  not  say  absolutely,  ac- 
cording to  the  sense  of  Heinsius,   that  Achilles 
mgkt  to  be  drawn,    or  was  drawn,   wagoLhiyfAx 
iyrrnxuxg,  but  rather  so  than  otherwise; — MAA- 
AON  It  o-x^u^otutJ^. — "  Loin  de  charger  encore 
"  le  defaut,  il  le  rappochera  de  la  vertUy'  as 
M.  Batteux  has  very  well  expressed  the  spirit  of 
the  rule,  though  he  has  generalized  it,  and  made 
it  refer  to  all   that  precedes  —  xa*    o^yiXu^,  xxi 
fatvfAisg,  &c. — whereas  it  appears  plainly,  from  what 
has  been  said  of  the  force  of  o-xXu^otuc,  that  the 
words,  iTTkHXiixg  iromy  irx^xi.  i  o-xXrf .  Can  be  applied 
only  to  the  oj yiAo* ;  for  as  to  the  pa9u/x©»,  such  a 
character  may,  indeed,  be  flattered   into  the  fVi- 
xiix»)f,  but  cannot  well,  by  any  distortion,  be  made 
to  appear  o-xAtj^©^. 

Still,  however,  what  every  one,  I  believe,  na- 
turally expects  at  the  first  reading  of  this  passage, 
as  it  now  stands,  is,  that  after  having  mentioned 
two  instances  oi faulty  characters,  the  cj y»Aoi,  and 
the  fQi,hii.o^,  Aristotle  should  mention  two  corres- 

M  3  pondin; 


^S 


i66  NOTES. 

ponding  instances  oi  good  qualities  bordering  upon, 
or  connected  with,  each,   and  of  which  the  Poet 
might  avail  himself,  to  give  to  each  a  favourable 
turn.     Bat,  instead  of  this,  we  havQ.  a  good,  and  a 
bad  quality,    {ifrmxixa,^   and   cxXtj^pTTif,)    both  of 
which,  as  we  have  seen,  can  be  made  to  relate  ortly 
to  Yd%Jirst  instance,  the  ©^yix®* ;  so  tliat  all  the 
rest,  between  the  words  o^yiXa?,  and  ETriftxufltc,  must 
be  parenthetical.     The  harshness  and  embarrass- . 
ment  of  such  a  construction,   led   me  formerlv  to 
suspect  an  error  in  one  of  the  words,  i7n£txf»a?,  or 
cy-M^ornr^  ;  and  a  conjecture  was  suggested  to  me 
by  a  passage  in  the  Rhetoric^  which,  I  hope,  will 
at  least  be  thought  plausible  enough  to  excuse  my 
laying  it  before  the  reader.    The  suspicion  seemed 
to' fail  upon  (TxAtjfOTTjT©';  for  the  £7r*itx£ia  would 
ahswer  well  enough  as  a  softening,  or  improve- 
ment, of  /laJu/Ata ;  as  an  indolent  man,  who  concerns 
himself  about  nothing,  and  cares  only  for  his  ow^ 
ease,  is  often  spoken  of  as  a  quicly  good  kind  of 
man.     Instead  of  crxX^ifoTJir^,  then,   I  thought  it 
not  improbable,  that  Aristotle  nnight  have  written 
a7rXoT?iT©^.      The    passage   of  Aristotle    himself 
which  suggested  this  to  me,  is  in  the  first  book  of 
his  Rhetoric^  cap,  ix.  where,  delivering  the  usual 
precepts  relative  to  tiie  art  of  encomiastic  mis- 
representation, he  says,  —  Atj^teov  h U^xs-ov, 

fx  Twv  TraflaxdAaSskTWk  Aft,  xara  ro  BEATI^TON' 
otov,  TON  'OPriAON  xxt  rov  fxotvixoy,  'AnAOTN  • 
xfl»   Tov    «u9fltJti,   /uiyaAoTTjfTTj   xoci    fe[JLyoy  *    x.  t.  «AA. 

The 


NOTES.  167 

The  whole  passage  is  much  to  the  purpose  of  this 
place ;  and  is,  plainly,  not  more  applicable  to  the 
Rhetorician,  with  respect  to  the  hero  of  his  oration, 
than  it  is  to  the  Poet,  with  respect  to  the  hero  of 
his  poem,  A  passage  of  Euripides  wij^l  add,  per- 
haps, some  probability  to  this  conjecture.  In  the 
Iphigeuia  at  Aulis,  Achilles  thus  draws  his  own 
character : 

Xu^uv^,  IfMtAov  Tug  r^oTTifg  'AIIAOTS  8%6iy; 
K»i  TOtg  Atj 6<da/f,  1JV  [Jtiv  iiymroti  KocXeag, 
Uei<roiJLe6\  otccv  ie  fznj  KuXea^y  i  iTei(roue6\ 

V.  926. 
Where  the  meaning  of  t^owh^  iirXH^^  is  very  well 
fixed  by  the  two  subsequent  lines,  and  by  the  ex- 
pression, lAivSi^otk  ^vfTiVy  in  the  verse  that  follows 
them. 

Plato,  also,  in  the  HippiaSj  talks  much  of  the 
simplicity,  truth,  and  sincerity,  of  Achilles ;  as  if, 
in  his  view,  they  were  the  prominent  features  of 
what  was  good  in  the  Homeric  character  of  that 
hero.  When  Socrates  asks  Hippias,  whether 
Achilles  is  not  represented  by  Homer  as  an  artful, 
designing  character,  Hippias  answers— Hx«ra  yi, 
<J  I«xf fltTfff,  «AA'  'AnAOTXTATOS.  And,  again,  a5^ 
p  fAi¥  A;^iAXiu^  un  akn^n^  n  nai  *AnAOT2  '  0  ft  O^vtr- 
«-iu?  woXuTfOTT^  n  x«i  ij/ju<r»?j*.  And  the  following 
lines  are  there  quoted,  in  which  Homer  has  made 

Achilles 

I  Tom.  i.  p.  364,  td,  Serr. 
M  4 


i68  NOTES. 

Achilles  strongly  mark  this  feature  of  his   own 
character : 

Kovf  uev  Sfj  Tov  fjLU^ov  GCTryjXeyicjg  otTrotiTTUV, 

Hi  'TTSO  07}  (ppOVBU)   Ti,   KOCl  Uq  TBrBKt(rfJLiJ>OV  Bg'Ut' 

EvS^®-  yuD  fjLoi  xsiy©-  ojjiug  oticoco  'rrvXricrtv^ 

*0^  X  ^TBovv  [Jtev  kbvSbi  Ivi  ^^B(riv,  dxXo  ob  (oocI^bi. 

IL  ix.  308. 

The  sense»  then,  of  the  passage  before  us,  ac- 
cordii^  to  this  conjecture,  would  be  this : — If  the 
Poet  chuse  for  the  subject  of  his  imitation  a  pas- 
sionaie,  or  an  indoknt  man,  he  should  give  to  the 
former  the  cast  of  plain  sincerity,  and  honest 
frankness ;  and  to  the  other,  (the  p»6u/x^)  that  of 
moderation,  gentleness  \  good-nature,  and  what  the 
Prench,  byian  expressive  word  which  our  language 

wants,  term,  bvnhommie. But  I  dwell  too  long 

upon  a  mere  conjecture.  The  evident  propriety 
of  the  word  fi-jtXn^oTn;,  as  applicable  to  the  un- 
softened  and  unflaliend  character  of  Achilles,  may 
justly,  perhaps,  protect  it  from  suspicion  ;  though, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  passages  I  have  adduced, 
added  to  tlie  improbability  of  the  dlipse  supposed 
by  Heinsius,  the  embarrassment  of  the  parenthesis, 
^  and  the  advantage  of  leaving  the  iJ  to  its  most 
obvious,  disjiinctke,  sense,  preveiU  me  from  a  total 
rejection  of  tiiis  idea. 

The  word  tr^^ojuyixxy  here,  is  taken  by  most  of 
the  commentator^  ta  mean  a  perfect  ideal  model  * — 

"  suwmum 


«  Roboridli,  Victorius,  Piccol.  Bcni,  Goulston. 


^ 


NOTES.  169 

"  summum  exemplar."  For  this  I  see  no  reason, 
I  take  it  to  be  used  here,  as  it  is  generally,  I  be- 
lieve, if  not  always,  used  by  Aristotle,  merely  for 
an  exainple.  Of  this  the  reader  may  easily  sa- 
tisfy himself  by  consulting  the  useful  index  to 
Mr.  Winstanley's  edition. 


NOTE   119. 

P.  147.  As  Achilles  is  drawn,  bt 
Agatho,  and  by  Homer. 

Plato,  in  the  third  book  of  his  Republicy 
gives  a  verj'  different  view  of  the  Homeric  Achilles. 
He  makes  him  a  mere  compound  of  extreme 
pride  and    extreme  meanness:   wn   Ix^iv  h   «utw 

votrriiAAra     J'uo     lyAvriu    aXAiiXoiv,    diftXivhpiuv     fAtrx 
^iXox^yilAxnx^,   xat  au   vm^i\poLviocv  9i«v  ti  x«(  ai/9o«- 

TTwi/*.  To  which  we  may  add,  as  a  companion, 
Dr.  Jortin's  portrait  of  Achilles :  "  A  boisterous^ 
"  i^apaciouSy  mercenary^  cruel,  and  uiirelenting 
brute ;  and  the  reader  pities  none  of  his  cala- 
mities, and  is  pleased  with  none  of  his  suc- 
^  cesses  ** ! "  This  is  far  enough  from  the  iraf  a- 
iuyfjLoc  iwmxiieti.  But  for  a  juster  account  of  this 
matter,  and  for  the  best  illustration  of  this  pas- 
sage of  Aristotle  that  can  be  given,  I  refer  the 

reader 

*  "  So  that  he  united  in  hi-nself  two  vices  the  most 
**  opposite  to  each  other;  avaricious  meanness  on  the 
"  one  hand,  and,  on  the  other,  an  insolent  contempt  both 
'^  of  Gods  and  men." — P.  1 74.  ed.  Massey, 

J  Six  Dissertations,  p.  214, 


It 


ic 


170  NOTES, 

reader  to  Dr.  Beattie's  analysis  of  the  character 
ot'  this  hero,  as  dmwn  by  Homer;  Essay  on 
Poetry,  &c.  Part  I.  ch.  iv. 


NOTE    120. 

P.  147.     And    beside    these,  whateveb 

RELATES     TO     THOSE     SENSES     WHICH     HAVE    A 
NECESSARY    CONNECTION    WITH    PoETRY. 

Here  are  two  readings  :  t«?  wxocc  rx  if  avayxuc 

AxoAsOao-ac  a*V8>i(rfK   ry   7ro*?iT*xtj  :   and,  ra,  wx^a  t«c 

fg  ai»Ayx»if,  Sec  but  in  both,  the  object,  and  general 
sense  of  the  passage,  seem  to  be  the  same,  though 
in  both,  the  expression,  it  must  be  confessed,  is 
sufficiently  embarrassed  and  obscure.  I  have 
preferred  the  latter,  (which  is  that  of  Victorius,)' 
as  being,  on  the  whole,  the  clearest  *. 

The  semes  that  belong  to,  accompany,  or  are 
connected  xvith^  Poetry,  are,  plainly,  the  sights 
and  the  hearings  as  relative  to  tiie  0\I/»c,  or  spec- 
tack,  in  the  whole  extent  of  that  term,  and  to  the 
MiXo^ou*  or  Music.     When  these  are  said  to  be 

Ig    aweyxJi?    axoXH^Htrxi    t»t    iroiDTtxij,    it    cannot    be ' 

meant  that  the  parts  relative  to  them  are  essential 
to  the  Tragic  Poem,  like  the  fable,  manners,  &c. 
but  only,  that  they  are  necessary  appendages  of 
the  drama  in  its  complete  state,  as  designed  for 

representation. 

*  in  the  treatise  Utfi  euaOiyreu;,  the  same  expression 
occurs:— »j  f^tv  apn  um  yt^ii  AKOAOT0EI  watrn  E3 
ANATKHS.  *'  Tactus  et  gustus  animalia  omnia  neassano 
comltantur.'^     Tom^  i.  /,  663.  (d.  Duval. 


NOTES.  171 

representation.  This  is  perfectly  conformable  to 
what  was  before  said  of  the  Oi}/k  ;  that,  though 
confessedly,  in  one  view,  iixir«  oixno^  mc  iroii»- 
Tixn?  •  *,  yet,  in  another  view,  EH  ANAFKHS  xy  lU 

The  drift  of  the  precept  is  obvious.  The  deco- 
7ation  should  be  such  as  to  agree  with  the  rules 
just  laid  down  for  the  manners.  The  scenery, 
dresses,  action,  &c.  must  be  x^fd.orToyr»,  ofAoia — 
probability,  nature,  and  the  costume,  must  be  ob- 
served. Even  the  {Ai^zciq  fiiXnovw,  the  improved 
imitation,  has  here,  too,  its  obvious  application. 
The  squalid  hair,  and  ragged  dress,  of  Electra ', . 
must,  as  well  as  the  <rxA?i^#Tiif  of  Achilles,  be  a 
little  flattered  in  the  representation,  and  not  to(^ 
like,  &c. 

The  rule  extends,  also,  to  the  Melapa'm,  or  the 
Music ;  which,  from  otker  passages  of  Aristotle's 
works,  we  may  suspect  to  have  been  sometimes 
such,  as  sacriticed  propriety,  and  just  expression 
— tlie  11811,  the  9rf£7rov,  &c.  to  the  depraved  taste  of 
what  he  calls  the  fofT*xo»  spectators*. 
_It 

*  Cap.  vi. — "  is   most  foreign  to  die  art." — TransL 
Part  II.  Sect.  3. 

»  Ibid,  init,  *'  The  DECORATION  must  necessarily  be 
'<  one  of  its  parts,"     Part  II.  Sect.  2. 
'  XwJ^  fjui  niNAPAN  KOMAN, 
YUa  TPTXH  TAA*  i^  ttb^^v^ 

Eur ip,  Electra,  i^^, 
^  See,  De  Repub,X\h,v\n,   cap.  6,  and   7,  p.  457,  £• 
459,  A.  ed.  Duval.     The  contests  {ayuvtf),   indeed,  of 

which 


« 


I 


IJ2  NOTES. 

It  is  probable  that  Aristotle  alludes,  also,  to 
cap.  xvii.  and  to  the  mistakes,  which  the  Poet  is 
liable  to  commit,  who  composes  without  keeping 
the  stage,  and  the  effects  of  representation,  in  his 

eye". 

Though  the  Poet  neither  painted  the  scenes, 
nor  made  the  dresses,  yet  all  this  formed  one  of 
the  six  constituent  parts  of  Tragedy ;  fell,  of 
course,  under  the  direction ,  and  controul  of  the 
Poet,  and  was  of  the  utmost  importance  to  the 
success  of  his  piece,  at  a  time  when  represent^* 
tion  was  almost  essential  to  the  idea  of  dramatic 
poetry  *. 

NOTE    121. 

P.  148.    All  those  DiscevEEiEs  in  which 

THE  SIGN  IS  PRODUCED  BY  WAY  OF  PROOF. 

'A*  ir»ri«iK  i^ji*.  Well  explained  by  Dacier  after 
the  Italian  commentators.  Indeed,  the  very  words 
of  Homer,  in  the  passage  alluded  to,  sufficiently 
illustrate  the  meaning  of  the  expression. 


which  he  speaks  in  these  p&sages,  seem  to  have  been 
merely  musicaL  But  the  known  inHuence  of  the  same 
popular  audience  in  the  drannatic  contests,  and  the  caution 
given  by  Aristotle  in  the  passage  we  are  considering, 
make  it  probable,  that  even  in  the  music  of  Tragedy^ 
especially  in  the  instrumental  parr  of  it,  something  of  the 
same  accommodation  might  prevail. 

•Transl.  Part  II.  Sect.  17. 

*  See  vol.i.  Diss.  I.  Partll.  at  the  end. 


NOTES.  173 

£/  6ayt  OTj  )coci  SHMA  ocoi^p^uSs;  aXXo  t/  Su^Uy 
*0<p^  f^s  iv  yvuTov^  IIIITnGHTON  r  In  Sujity, 
'OYAHN &c.  Od.^217. 

"  To  give  you  Jirmer  faith,  now  trust  your  eye : 
•*  Lo  !  the  broad  scar  indented  on  my  thigh." 

Pope,  xxi.  226, 
Other  instances  of  sigjis  thus  used,  not  for  the 
purpose  of  accidental  discovery,  but  as  confirma- 
tions of  a  voluntary  discovery  previously  made, 
may  easily  be  found.  Thus,  in  the  Electra  of 
Sophocles,  when  Electra  asks  her  brother,  'H  yx^ 
€M  xnv^ : — he  answers — 

-     -     -     -      TrivCt  7rpo(r  12x^1^ x(r  If^a 

NOTE    122. 

P.  148.  ,Th0SE  which HAPPEN  SUD- 
DENLY AND  CASUALLY,  ARt  BETTER. 

Ex  irifiiTiTuati, — "  Non  valet  hie  Tn^nFiruK,  mu- 
"  tationem  illani  ingentem  fortunarum,  sed,  jfx 
"  7r£f  iTiT£*»f,  significat,  casu,  fortuito,  et  quia  ita 
"  ceciditJ* — J^ictoi^ius. 

So  in  the  passage  ^rom  Polybius  quoted  by 
Suidas,  under  the  words  Uif tirirfia,  and  Eu/a£^?jf : — 
•  '''^X?  ^^  irAiiov  €Mn^y(A  p^f  w/^£^^>  i^'  EK  IIEPI- 
n£TEIA£,   i\Ka  $ia  rn^  ay;^ij»c*af.  x.t.A. 

Aristotle  s  using  the  word   thus,    adverbially, 

after  having  hitherto  used  it  only  in  its  technical, 

tpr  dramatic,  sense,  of  a  sudden  change  of  fortune, 

*  produces- 


174  NOTES. 

produces  some  ambiguity ;  and  the  more  so,  a^ 
the  adverbial  phiase,  U  «-if*TiT«iaf,  seems  not  t© 
be  of  very  common  occurrence.  Heinsius,  taking 
vt^nrtruoi  in  the  dramatic  sense,  translates — "  quae 
*^  e  mutationibm  in  contrarium  oriunturf  which, 
indeed,  is  the  obvious  meaning  of  the  expression, 
if  not  understood  adverbially.  But  it  cannot  be 
Aristotle's  meaning,  because  the  discovery  of  the 
scar  of  Ulysses  was  not  the  consequence  of  any 
such  Tvifivitux,  Indeed,  it  was  neither  the  con- 
sequence, nor  the  cause,  of  any  reverse  of  fortune. 
I  have  sometimes  suspected  that  Aristotle  might 
write  it,  ix  IIPOIIETEIAX,  by  which  all  ambiguity 
would  have  been  avoided.  But,  perhaps,  after 
all,  the  phrase  had  no  ambiguity  to  Greek  ears, 
and  the  passage  may  be  right  as  it  stands. 


\ 


NOTE    123. 


P.  149.    Discoveries  invented,  at  plea- 
sure, BY  THE  Poet,  and,  on  that  account, 

STILL    INARTIFICIAL. 

•Tfpi^vw. -'*- The  expression,  vnr^miMvtn  iv  tb 
wonT»,  must  necessarily,  I  think,  be  understood 
emphaticallj/,  and  must  mean,  oot  merely  invented, 
(for  so  are  the  other  discoveries  also,  which  fol- 
low,) but  arbitrarily  invented  by  the  Poet,  and 
obviotisiy  so,  "  upon  the  spur  of  the  occasion  ;'* 
in  opposition  to  such  means  of  discovery  and 

recognition. 


NOTES.  17^ 

recognition,  as,   tliough  still  indeed  of  the  Poet's 
invention,  are  aftfully  prepared  in  the  very  texture 
of  his  plot,  and  appear  to  arise,  necessarily  or 
probably,  from  the  action  itself.     And  thus  I  find 
it   well  explained    by   Piccolomini :— "  Chiama 
"  Aristotele  qiiesta  seconda  spetie  di  ricono&ci- 
^  mento,  Jatto  dal  P<,eta:  e  cosi  lo  chiama,  non 
''  perche  in  tutte  le  spetie  U  Pocia  non  sia  quello 
"  che  li  riconoscimenti,  siccome  lealtre  parti  dell' 
''  attione  e  della  favola  ponga  e  fomii  coi  versi 
*|  mm ;  ma  ha  dato  d  questa  spetie  pid  di'  air  altre 
"  questo  nome,  perche  in  essa,  non  fondandosi  il 
"  Poeta,  n^  nello  stesso  connettimento  delle  cose, 
"  e  nella  stessa  Ikvola,  nfe  in  segno  alcuno  che  la 
"  persona   stessa,    che   s'ha   da^  riconoscere,  gli 
•*  oflFerisca  inanzi ;  egli,  per  questo,  come  libera 
"  divenuto,    h  suo  mero  (quasi)  arbitrio,  reca, 
"  f^ge,  e  pone  in  bocca  della  persona  a  voglia  sua, 
"  quella  occasione  di   ricomsdmento  che  piu  gli 
''  piace,^'  ice.   [p.230.]~Yet   as   this  sense  is 
rather  inferred  from   the  explanation  subjoined, 

(raura  zp  ajr©*  \iyu  'A  BOTAETAI  'O  nOiHTHZ, 

«AA  ^x.  0  MT0O2)  than  expressed  by  the  words 
themselves,  I  am  much  inclined  to  suppose  some 
.omission  in  the  text. 

The  other  reading,  'OTK  aTi^i^w,  is  very  fJau- 
sibly  supported  l^y  the  Abbe  Batteux,  from  a 
passage  of  Aristotle's  Rhetoric,  which  has  been 
already  mentioned  in  note  104*.  I  doubt, 
* however, 

f  Rhet.  1.  c.  11.     T«y  h  icif&ov,  iu  /*£v  arexvoi  eViy— *.t.a. 


176  .H    O    T    E    S. 

however,  whether  that  passage  be  fairly  applicable 
to  this  \  But  though  it  were,  the  sense  above 
given,  and  which  I  think  must  be  given,  to  the 
expression  frtvomfAivai  wro  T«  n.  seems  hardly 
reconcilable  \>ith  this  reading.  For  can  we  con- 
ceive that  Aristotle  would  assign  as  a  reason  why 
such  discoveries  are  not  itmrtijicialy  tlmt  they  are 
itbitrarili/  (and  therefore  easily,)  invented  by  the 

Poet? — AIO  »x  dn^voi. 

I  must  observe,  however,  that  though  these  two 
readings  are  diametrically  opposite, — mn^yoi — ix 
^Vfp^vo* — yet,  it  is  some  comfort,  that  whichever 
we  adopt,  the  general  sense  of  the  passage  will 
be  the  same.  As  such  discoveries  are  of  the 
Poefs  moentmiy  they  are  not  drtx^oi,  in  the  rhe- 
torical sense :  as  they  require  very  little  invention, 
compared  with  those  which  arise  from  the  action 
itself,  they  may,  in  this  view,  be  denominated, 
«Tfx>o».  In  either  reading,  therefore,  Aristotle 
will  be  found  to  say  the  same  thing;  i.c.  that  the 
discoveries  of  this  secofid  species  are,  in  point  of 
art  and  ingenuity,  superior  to  ihe^rst  species,  and 
inferior  to  all  the  rest. 


*  In  that  passage,  attyya,  is  opposed  to  ENTEXNA, 
and  means,  such  things  as  are  foreign  to  the  orator* s  art. 
—Here,  the' word  means,  noi  foreign  to  the  Poet's  art, 
but  only— ^ffH/V/fff  little^  or  no  ah^  or  ingenuity  of  in- 
ventigp,  in  the  Poet, 


NOTES. 


J77 


NOTE    124. 

P.  149-     Orestes,    after   having  disco- 

VERED  HIS  SISTER,  DISCOVERS  HIMSELF  TO  HER. 
The    Greek    is — Miyy^ji^ifri   mu  oih\(pnVj   iytyvw 

fitrSfif  uV  Usiyn^ :— tliis,  as  Victorius  has  observed, 
seems  to  say  the  reverse.;  i.e.  that  Orestes  dis- 
covered his  sister  after  having  been  discovered  by 
her :  which  is  not  the  fact.     One  would  rather 

have    expected— uy^ym^i^cc;    mu    cl$eX<pfiv,    ocpiym- 

fi<r9>i    uV*    ixftpnr.   which   would   also  have    been 
clearer,  and  not  have  given  occasion  to  the  coai- 
mentators  to  suppose,  that  the  discovery  of  Iphi- 
genia  by  the  letter  was  meant  to  be  included  in 
this  second  a.nd  faulty  species  of  discovery ;  whereas 
the  expression  'OION  Of  ANErNf2PI2E  tij.  dhxtpnv, 
leads  very  naturally  to  that  idea.     But  it  is  easy 
to  see,  upon  the  least  reflection,  that  the  discovery 
of  Orestes  onlij  is   the   example   here   intended. 
This  is    sufficiently  explained    by   Dacier   after 
Victorius.     It  was  natural  enough,  however,  for 
Aristotle  to  mention  the  oMer  discovery,  in  passincT, 
as  being  the  counterpart  of  a  double  dyxyy^oKng  in 
the  same  drama.   [See  cap.  xi.  at  the  end.  Transl. 
Part  II.  Sect.  9.] — But  this  whole  passage,  I  may 
say,    this  whole   chapter,  has   undoubtedly  beeii 
most  miserably  mangled  in  transcription. 


VOL.  II. 


N 


178 


NOTES. 


NOTE    125. 

P.  149.  But  Orestes,  by  [verbal  proofs]  &c. 
The  reading  which  Victorius  regarded  as  most 


##**## 


rauTot 


authentic  is  tUs : — hmi^  St 

— Buz  Jour  Medicean  manuscripts,  and,  it  seems, 
all  those  in  the  King  of  France's  library,  agree  in 
reading — l)c«i/®-  Si  aJr©*  xtyu,  x.t.x.*,  and,  in  the 
latter,  we  are  told,  tlie  words  are  written  without 
any  fiiatus.  This  last  reading,  however,  appears 
to  me  short  and  deficient.  I  cannot  but  think 
that  the  author,  after  the  words  Ix^y^  h, — had 
expressed  the  means  of  the  discovery,  and  by  them 
denominated  this  species,  as  he  has  all  the  others: 

— Ji<x  (r»/x{t«oi/-— ^ia  pvu/xrif— Ix  (ruAAoyic/xa — .      But 

hoxv  the  vacancy  was  filled,  it  is  impossible  to  de- 
termine; and  it  is  of  the  less  consequence  to 
determine,  as  we  are  in  possession  of  the  Tragedy 
itself  A*a  (Tiijtxcjftjv,  which  Victorius  found  in  one 
IMS.  or,  cia  Tix/A»if*wv,  as  Dacier  ingeniously  con- 
jectured from  the  words  of  Euripides  himself, 
seem  most  probable.  In  point  of  meaning,  it  is 
indifferent  by  which  of  these  appellations  tliesc 
discoveries   were   distinguished^    T£x/xTi^*oy   being, 

according 


/■ 


if- 
It* 


*  See  edit.  Ox,  1780,  and  Battcux's  translation,  note  3. 

But  M.  Batteux   is  mistaken  in  saying  that  Victorius 

omits  the  words  ratrra  «v: — he  gives  them  in  his  text,  and 
translates  them  in  his  commentary.  He  rejects  only  the 
supplement,  }ia  cnifuiwi^ 


NOTES.  179 

according  to  Aristotle's  own  definition  in  his 
Rhetoric,   only   a  species   of  <rnjU£ioi>.     Tarwy   Se 

(1.  e.     T«i>    a-pif^ucoy,)     TO    fxiv  dvocyitociov,    Tfxjtxtj^iov  **. 

Zu/xf iojr  is  a  sign,  or  token :  Tix/au^iov,  a  certain, 
decisive  sign,  such  as  puts  an  end  to  all  doubt, 
according  to  the  derivation  of  the  word  given  by 
Aristotle  in  the  passage  just  referred  to.  We  see, 
therefore,  with  what  strict  propriety  the  word  is 
used  by  Euripides,  when  Iphigenia  demands,  and 
Orestes  professes  to  give,  a  decisive  proof: 

Iphig, — ex^tg  Tt  rcavSe  fioi  TEKMHPION; 

And  Orestes,  presently  after,  when  he  produces 
his  last  and  strongest  proof,  says 

'a J'  ilhv  ayT(&.,  Ta^6  (pjacrw  TEKMHPIA^ 

It  is,  indeed,  some  objection  to  ^*a  o-u/iAnwp,  in 
this  passage  of  Aristotle,  that  it  would  appear  to 
confound  this  discovery  with  the  Jirst,  by  giving 
it  the  same  denomination.  But  this,  perhaps, 
would  be  sufficiently  obviated  by  the  explanation 
immediately  subjoined : — hot,  (tu/ahwv*  TATTA  fjLty 

iy    air^    AErEI  a   ^aXtron,   &C.      2ti/uifiOk,    in    the 

first  species  of  discovery,  is  used  for  visible,  ex- 
ternal  proofs :  here,  it  would  be  used  for  verbal, 
argumentative  proofs ;  as  it  is  used,  continually, 
in  this  treatise.     And  it  may  also   be  observed, 

that 


"^» 


••  Lib.  i.  cap.  ii.  p.  5 1 7,  ed,  Duval, 

*"  Jpl^ig'  in  Taur.— from  v.  808 — to  &26.— In  the 
Electra  of  Sophocles,  SA^H  2HME1A  is  used,  v.  892, 
as  equivalent  to  rtxfjtn^nov  which  occurs  afterwards^  v.  910. 

N  2 


^S 


i8o  NOTES. 

that  Ajistotle  him>>elf,  at  the  end  of  this  chapter, 
(it  the  integrity  of  ihe  text  be  admitted,)  reters  to 
this  sort  of  discovery,  among  others,  under  the 
denomination  of  TmroiniMSpx  2HMEIA. 


.f 


NOTE    126. 

P.  149.     Foe,  some  of  the  things,  from 

WHICH  THOSE  PROOFS  ARE  DRAWN,  ARE  EVEN 
SUCH  AS  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  PRODUCED  AS 
VISIBLE    SIGNS. 

— Efni/  yot^  dy  hix  x«*  £;/£yxi(v. — In  the  sense 
which  I  have  given  to  this  obscure  sentence,  the 
only  sense  that  I  thought  could  fairly  be  extracted 
from  the  words,  I  am  glad  to  find  myself  sup- 
ported by  the  judgment  of  Victorius. — "  Quare 
"  prop^  dictum  peccatum  est :  (<^«'  0  lyyvg  mg 
"  «4^tj/tx«ktjf  ajuuafTta?  Ifiv.)  quia  si  ilia  quibus  usus 
"  est  Orestes  non  oninin6  signa  fuerunt ; — neque 
"  enim  ostendi  potuerunt;  —  prop^  tamen  ilia 
**  accesserunt;  atque  ita  proph  ut  quasdam  ex 
"  ipsis  iiiius  prosus  generis  Juerinty  quamvis  ita 
"  ipsis  ille  usus  non  sit.  Hoc  enun  arbitror  va- 
"  lere,  **  liabat  eiiim  qu<tdam  etiam  port  are'' — 
**  id  est,  manu  tenere,  et  jubere  ut  ipsa  videret  ac 
**  reminisceretur,"  &c. 

Ena,  because  all  the  proofs  of  Orestes  were  not 
of  this  kind,  but  only  Electra  s  woj^k,  and  tlie  lance. 


h* 


.i: 


NOTES 


x8x 


NOTE    127. 

P.  149.     The    DISCOVERY   by   the   sound 

t)F    THE    SHUTTLE. 

*H  Tii?  xf^xicJ©^  ^wkfi — Dacier,  after  some  other 
commentators,  makes  a  speaking  shuttle  of  this  ; 
and  wonders,  as,  indeed,  he  well  might,  that  the 
great  critic  shoiild  let  so  monstrous  an  absurdity 
pass  v^ithout  a  severer  censure  than  that  of  its 
wanting  art.  Others  understand,  much  more 
reasonably,  not  the  literal,  but  the  metaphorical, 
voice  of  the  shuttle,  in  the  epistolary  web  by 
which  Philomela  is  said  to  have  conveved  to  her 
sister  the  dismal  tale  of  her  sufferines, 

— »Vk  TToiKiXfjLoca-t  STOMA  TI  %^i?(ra/^syi7, 

in  the  language  of  that  most  curious  of  all  Poets, 
John  Ttetzes  *. 

But  as  this  seems  to  have  been  the  current  tra- 
ditional story,  I  do  not  see  how  it  could  be  ad- 
duced as  a  circumstance  irwented  at  pleasure  by 
the  Poet.  I  should  rather  suppose,  that  the  dis- 
covery in  question,  whatever  it  might  be,  was 
effected  by  the  sound  of  the  shuttle,  which  Aris- 
totle calls,  ^i*»),  voicCy  not,  probably,  in  his  own 
language,  but  in  the  poetical  language  of  the 
Tragedy  itself  to  which  he  alludes.  For  these 
xf^^iJ'ff,  it  seems,  were  a  very  weal  sort  of  things, 
notiiing  like  the  shuttles   of   "  these   degenerate 

**  days." 


!i 


V*  .ChiU  vii.  14a.— bee  Ovid's  Mctam.  lib,  vi.  572^  &c. 

N  3  • 


182  NOTES. 

t 

'*  days."  Every  one  recollects  the  *^  arguto  pec-' 
"  tint''  of  Virgil.  But  this  is  nothing  to  the 
amplification  of  some  Greek  epigrammatists,  who 
scruple  not  to  compare  them  to  swallows,  and  even 
to  nightingales ; 

KecjCiJa^  o^d^oXxXoKTi  XEAIA02IN  Bl)CBXo(puvisg — 

And, 
KeoytiSoc  S*  BUTToiriTov  AHAONA — \ 

Hence  the  ridiculous  fancy  of  Joseph  Scaliger, 
that  the  metamorphosis  of  Procne  into  a  swallow 
was  exhibited  in  the  Tereiis  of  Sophocles,  and  that 
a  shuttle  was  made  use  of,  instead  of  a  whistle  or 
bird-pipe,  to  imitate  the  swallow's  voice ! — 

NOTE  128. 
P.  149.     Thus  in  the  Cyprians  of  Di- 

d:OGENES . 

That  this  was  a  distinct  Poem  from  the  Kuirj t« 
mentioned  afterwards  in  cap.  xxiii.  seems  clear 
from  this  single' circumstance,  observed  by  Vic- 
torins,  that  the  Epic  Poem  called  The  Cj/priacs, — 
Ta  KuTT^ia  iTTfi, — is  mentioned  there  by  Aristotle, 
as  it  is,  generally,  by  other  antient  writers,  in  terms 
that  imply  a  doubt  of  its  author  * :  whereas  here 
the  author  is  named,  without  any  expression  of 
uncertainty. 

Whether  the  Poem  was  Epic,  or  Tragic, 
cannot  be  determined ;  nor,  from  the  ambiguity  of 

the 


^  Anthoi  lib,  vi,  cap,  8.    •  — 6  ra  Kt/^r^ioxa  7rw»^flff  -  -  -. 


NOTES.  tSj 

the  case,  toi;  KuTrptoK,  whether  the  title  of  it  was 
Ta  Kuvfia,  or,  0»  KuTrptot — The  Cypriacs,  or,  The 
Cyprians,  The  latter  is,  certainly,  the  most  pro- 
bable title  for  a  Tragedy ^  and  therefore,  as  Dicae- 
ogenes  is  recorded  only  as  a  Tragic  and  Dithyr- 
ambic  Poet,  I  have  ventured  to  adopt  it. 

xoTE  129, 

P.  149.     In  the  tale  of  Alcinqus . 

See  Od.  viii.  521. — There  is  another  discovery 
of  the  same  kind  in  the  4th  book,  where  Menelaus 
recognizes  Telemachus  by  the  tears  he  sheds  at  the 
mention  of  his  father.  There  is  not,  I  think, 
either  in  Homer,  or  in  any  other  Poet,  a  more 
natural  and  affecting  picture  of  friendly  regret  on 
the  one  hand,  and  filial  affection  on  the  other. — 
"  Of  all  the  friends  I  have  lost,"  says  Menelaus, 
addressing  himself  to  Telemachus  without  know- 
ing who  he  was — "  one  there  is,  whom  I  lament 
"  more  than  all  the  rest  -^ — 

-  -  -  0^6  fto/  XiTTVOV  oLTTB'x^^cx.ioei  %ock  edcodviv 
MveoofjLBvcp*  iTret  inq  A%a/wi/  roctr  Ifioyyia-tv 

I/jlsXXbv 
^VTca  Kv^ii   e(ri(r6oUf  IfJLOt  ?'  «%©*  otitv  dXug-ov 
KBiv}if  oTTcag  Srj  Stjoov  aiTOix^Toct'  ids  ri  IdfjLBv^ 
Zeait  oy\  if  TBdvtpcev,     Oov^ovrat  w  ttk  avTOV 
AuBpTTjg  (f  0  yB^m,  xoci  ex^^P^v  Ui^veXoTrBioif 

TTjXBfJLOCX^  6\  QV  eXBlTTB  VBOV  yByOiCOT    iVl  OhKCa, 

N  4  Hg 


1 


It: 
it: 


J84  1^    O    T    E    S. 

AocK^v  6    OLTTO   (iXe(po&om    '^^ufjLu^ig   jQaXs,   ttut^O^ 
XXotivcxv  '7ro^(pva£7iu  avT  o(p6uXfjLouv  oivua")(cov 
Afi(poTt^,(n  %6j(ri  •  voyi(TB  Sb  /juv  MbvbXx^,  -  -  - 

Od.  A.  105 — ■. 

That  the  title,  Axx»vo»,  or  AXxn/a,  dfroXoy^,  was 
understood  to  refer  ckic/ly  to  the  long  narration  of 
Ulysses,  which  occupies  four  books  of  the  Odys- 
sey, seems  clear,  even  from  the  proverbial 
application  of  the  expression.  AiroXoy^  AAxivo». — 

Siitdas.  And  so  Jul.  Pollux : — Ix*  [axx^uv  fnctuv  ^ 
But  a  passage  in  Aristotle's  Rhetoric  leaves  no 
doubt.  lie  there  expressly  mentions  Homer's 
account  of  the  speech  of  Ulysses  to  Penelope, 
Od.  xxiii.  310,  Sec.  as  being  the  AAx»j/»  aVoXoy^ 
compressed  into  an  abridgment  of  thirty  verses. — 

Xojrvv   lu    T^iaxoi'Ta    lirKri    Tmroifiron  %      Now    those 

verses  are,  in  fact,  a  mere  table  of  contents  to  the 
9th,  1  oth,  1 1  th,  and  1  f th  books,  which  contain 
the  narrative  of  Ulysses  at  the  court  of  Alcinous. — • 
This  title,  therefore,  (AAxik«  AwoXoy^)  must  at 
least  have  extended  to  those^bwr  books.  But  the 
passage  which  is  the  subject  of  this  note,  seems  to 

prove 

■ —  —  ■  -  I     ■ 

*  N^it  ill  translaied  by  Femon,  in   Popi$  Odyssey^ 
bookiv.  131. 

^  ri.  4.  and  VI.  26. 

«  III.  16.^.  603.  ed.  DuvaL 


NOTES.  185 

prove  that  it  extended  still  farther ;  for  here  we 
are  referred  to  the  eighth  book  under  that  title  ; 
though  the  speech,  th©  /aax^a  pfjo-i?  of  Ulysses, 
does  not  commence  till  tiie  ninth.  The  editions 
prefix  the  title,  Axxiva  diroXoTOl,  only  to  the  eighth 
book. —  The  fact  seems  to  be,  that  the  titles,  by 
which  the  different  parts  of  Homer's  Poems  were 
first  distinguished,  were  applied  to  parts  of  very 
unequal  lengths ;  so  that  afterwards,  when  the 
equal,  or  nearly  equal,  division  into  books  took 
place,  it  would  not  always  coincide  exacriy  with 
the  other  division,  formed  by  the  different  distinct 
subjects  or  episodes  of  the  Poem ;  but  one  title 
would  sometimes  comprehend  several  books,  and 
different  parts  of  the  same  book,  would  sometimes 
be  distinguished  by  different  titles.  Thus,  for 
example,  the  Jifth  book  of  the  Odyssey  had  two 
titles,  KaAu\J/»f  Apt^ov,  and  Sp^iJ'ta,  or  Ta  tt^^*  mv 
orp^fJ'tay :  and  the  last  book  ihree,  Nixuiak — Tx  b 
Axi^ra — and,  Zirey^^ai  ^  And  thus,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  title,  AXxii/a  ATroAoy©*,  is  not,  I  appre- 
hend, to  be  considered  as  appiopriated  to  any  one 
book,  but,  probably,  comprehended  five  books — 
from  the  eighth  to  the  twelfth,  inclusively ;  per- 
haps, was  understood  to  refer,  generally,  to  the 
whole  Episode  of  Alcinous;  as  indeed  the  ex- 
pression AAKINOT  dwoXoy©*  —  "  the  story  of 
Alcinous" — seems  rather  to  imply.     And  the 

diflferent 

•*  See  -dLhan,  F,  Hist,  lib,  xiii.  cap,  14,  and  the  notes 
of  Perizoniufi. 


V' 


if* 


'  ^ 


186  NOTES. 

different  parts  of  this  long  Episode  were,  again, 
subdistinguished  by  other  titles ;  such  as,  KvxXuTnoc, 
N£xuta,  Ta  Kifxu?,  &c.  Indeed,  the  title,  AXkh/h 
AwaXoyoi,  though  prefixed  only  to  the  eighth 
book,  seems  evidently  extended  beyond  that  book 
by  the  title  subjoined  as  its  equivalent, — 'H,  t«  t» 

0$MV<n(»)q   TTCc^x  AAxtvw,      But    how   the    word    aTro- 

^•0^  got  ^^^o  the  plural  number  here,  I  do  not 
well  understand.  This  circumstance,  however, 
together  with  the  idea  of  its  being  confined  to  this 
single  book,  has,  I  think,  led  Perizonius  and  other 
learned  men  into  mistakes  concerning  the  7rason 
of  the  appellation.  Perizonius  (ubi  sup.)  thinks 
the  eighth  book  was  so  called,  "  because  there  are 
"  several  speeches  of  Aldnous  in  it ;"  and  others 
suppose,  that  the  title  alludes  to  the  songs  of 
Demodocus  *. 

NOTE  130. 
P.  150.    The    discovery  occasioned  by 

REASONING,  OR  INFERENCE;  SUCH  AS  THAT  1^ 
THE  CnOEPHORiE — . 

Here  is  much  obscurity  and  confusion. — On^ 
thing,  however,  seems  clear;  that  Jx  ffuXApy*(r/Lnr, 
cannot  mean  as  some  interpreters  have  under- 
stood it  to  mean,  "  by  reasoning  or  inference  in 
"  the  mind  of  the  person  who  makes  the  dis- 
"  covery ;'  because  this  is  common  to  all  the 
modes  of  discovery.     When   Electra  recognizes 

her 


•  SchEnidiuS;  ia  Find.  >iein.  p.  34, 


NOTES.  187 

her  brother,  does  she  not  infer;-  or,  in  the  phi- 
losopher's language,  syllogize  ?     "  This  man  has 
**  seen  the  lance — nobodv  could  see  it  but  Ores- 
"  tes — This  is  Orestes." — And  the  same  may  be 
said  of  all  the  other  recognitions.     Discovery  by 
inference,  therefore,  on  the  part  of  the  discacerer, 
cannot  be  made  a  distinct  species.    The  discovery 
Aristotle  means,  is  plainly  a  discovery,  not  made, 
but  occasioned,  by  inference.     Throughout  all  his 
instances,  he  considers  only  the  means,  or  occasion, 
of  discovery,  as  furnished,   in  some  way  or  other, 
by  the  person  discovered.    With  respect  to  bodily 
marks,  bracelets,  &c.  the  letter  of  Iphigenia,  and 
the  verbal  Tjx/An^ta   of  Orestes,   this   is  obvious 
enough.     But  the  case  is  the  same  with  the  dis- 
covery by  memory :  in  both  the  examples  of  that 
species,  the  persons  are  discovered,  not  by  recol- 
lection in  the  discoverers,  but  by  the  effects  of  it 
in  themselves.     And  so  here  too,  in  the  three 
last  examples  of  discovery  Ix  (ruXAoyifl7A»,  however 
obscure  in  other  respects,  this  at  least  seems  clearly 
enough  expressed,  that  the  persons  are  discovered 
by  their  awn  reasoning,  or  inference ;  that  is,  by 
something  which  it  leads  them  to  say  *. 

B^t,  the  difficulty  is,  that  Aristotle's  first 
example,  appears  not  to  accord  with  thb  idea,  and 

with 

*  Some  time  after  these  remarks  were  written,  I  found 
them  coincide  exactly  with  those  of  Piccolomini,  whose 
comment  on  this  passage  is,  as  usual,  exact  and  clear. 
See  also  Benius,  who  follows  him. 


hi. 


it  ,^»  ' 


10 


i88  NOTES, 

with  the  other  examples.     The  inference  here, 
appears  to  be,  even  from  the  words  themselves  ^ 
and,  if  the  Choephara  of  JEschytus  be  intended, 
as  the  commentators  suppose,   certainly  is, — in- 
ference in  the  mind  of  the  |)erson  who  makes  the 
discovery.     But  as  this,  for  the  reasons  already 
given,  cannot,  I  think,  be  admitted,  we  must  cither 
leave  this  knot  as  it  is,  or  solve  it  by  supposing  some 
other  Tragedy,  not  extant,  to  be  meant,  in  h  hich 
the  conclusion  mentioned  was,  as  in  all  the  other . 
instances  that  follow,  the  occasion  only  of  the  dis- 
covery ^     Nor  will  this  appear  a  very  improbable 
supposition,  if  we  recollect  the  swarm  of  Tragic 
Poets  who  were  continually  exercising  their  inven- 
tion upon  a  few  popular  subjects,  and  the  number 
of  different  Tragedies  which,  in  consequence,  we 
find  recorded,  not  only  on  the  same  subject,  but 
even  with  the  same  title ;  often  with  some  slight 
variation  only,  in  the  mode  of  a  discovery,  and 
other  episodic  mcidents  of  the  plot,  which  would 
still  leave  a  general  resemblance,  a  sort  oi  family 
likeness,  between  them,  such  as,  in  fact,  we  find 


m 


^  TfTOf TTi  5f ,  r\  Eft  (TU?^^i(rfjLH '   oiov,  h  Xoij^f oij  [at.  Xxon-^ 

""  So,  Bcni :  *'  Itaque  prlmum  exemplum  sic  intelligen- 
«'  dum  crediderim,  ut  Electra  agnita  sit,  non  Orestes: 
^'  ita,  nimirum,  ui  cum  Orestes  eo  modo  ratiocinantem 
"  audiret  puellam,  dum  Orestem  slbi  similem  diceret,  inde 
♦*  Eiectram  agnoscatr  Pauli  Benii,  in  Ar.  Poet.  Com- 
ment, p.  348. 


notes;  189 

in  Tragedies  on  the  same  subject  iK)w  extant; 
in  the  Electra  of  Sophocles,  and  that' of  Euripides^ 
and  the  Chdephora  of  iEschylus. 

But  we  may  say,  farther,  that  this  supposition 
seems  to  be  favoured  by  the  Tragedy  of  ^schylqs, 
itself;  with  which,  what  Aristotle  here  says,  ap- 
pears to  me  by  no  means^  exactly  to  correspond. 
The  reader,  who  will  take  the  trouble  to  examine 
the  whole  passage  supposed  to  be  here  alluded  to, 
from  V.  166,  to  V.  233  "*,  will,  I  believe,  think  with 
me,  that  the  discovery,  in  that  play,  cannot  with 
propriety  be  denominated  a  discovery  made  by  in- 
ference from  resemblance.  The  circumstances  of 
the  lock  of  hair,  and  the  footsteps,  produce  in 
Electra  s  mind  no  more  than  a  glimmering  of 
hope — coLivo^on  S"  uV  Ixirii^  [v.  192.] — and  she 
is  so  far  from  discovering  Orestea  by  them,  that 
even  when  he  appears  before  her,  she  is  not  con- 
vinced till  he  produces  the  vfpoca-iAoc — the  vest,  or 
veil.  This  is  justly  remarked  by  Brumoy ;  "  Tout 
"  cela  (i.  e.  the  hair,  &c.)  nefait  que  la  rendre 
"  plus  inquiete  :  EUe  demeure  done  dans  cc  trou-  - 
"  ble  jusqu'  i  ce  qu'  Oreste  paroisse  h  ses  yeux. 
"  II  se  montre  tout  a  coup,  et  se  fait  reconnoitre 
"  pour  sonfrere,  en  lui prhentant  un  voile  quelle 
"  a  tissu  ellc-mcme '."    TJus  I  take  to  be  the  true 

dvocyvupKri? 


*  In  Mr.  Potter's  jEschylus,  from  p.  329,  to  334. 
Quarto. 

■^  Theat,  des  Grecs,  ii,  p.  6. — Mr.  Potter    is  of  the 
same  opinion  : — *^  JV^  discovery  is  from  /lence  raised :  but 

*<  the 


:4 


H'.- 


190  NOTES. 

ovaykw^io-i?  of  this  drama;  and  it  belongs  rather 
to  Aristotle's  ^r^/  class — ^»«  <nip5i«v;  if  not  even 
to  the  worst  sort  of  that  class,  where  the  sign  is 
produced  ^*r«wf  Ivfxa, — by  way  of  proof.  Indeed, 
even  admitting  that  Electra  may  be  considered  as 
recognizing  her  brother  by  hiference  fiom  the  re- 
semblance of  the  lock  of  hair  and  the  footsteps 
only,  still,  as  Piccolomini  acutely  and  solidly  ob- 
serves, this  instance  would  belong  to  the  jf?r^^ 
species  of  discovery  by  signs,  **  Questo  riconos- 
**  cimento  non  h  della  quart  a  speck  ^  ma  della 
prima;  nato,  non  da  sillogismOy  m^  da  segno: 
posciache  Elettra,  preso  per  segno  d'Oreste  la 
capigliatura,  sopra  tal  segno,  quasi  sopra  mezzo 
**  tennine,  fabrica  il  sillogismo  che  ella  fk  in  se 
stessa,  argomentando,  che  colui  fusse  Oreste : 
havendo  io  gi^  detto,  ch'  in  ogni  riconoscimento 
suoT  intervemr  sillogismo  ed  argomentatiotie 
"  dentro  alT  animo  della  persona  riconoscente.^' 
p.  236. 

NOTE    131. 

p.  150.       "  He  came  TO  FIND  HIS  SON,  AND 
"    HE    HIMSELF    MUST    PERISH." 

It  is  not  very  obvious,  how  these  words  are  to 
be  brought   to   any  thing  like  reasoning,   or  in- 
ference,  —  But  all   here   is  darkness.     The  far- 
fetched explanation  which  Dacier  has  condescended 

to 

**  the  mind  of  Electra  is  deeply  struck ;  she  reasons  and 
"  conjectures,  and  so  is  finely  prepared  for  the  discovery 
'*  which  ioon follows,^*    Notes  on  the  Choephorse. 


ec 


ii 


<( 


a 


<( 


ic 


NOTES.  191 

to  borrow,  without  notice,  from  Castelvetro,  for 
whom,  in  his  preface,  he  expresses  so  much  con- 
tempt, only  serves  to  make  the  "  darkness"  more 
"  visible." 

I  know  not  wliether  it  be  worth  while  to  remark 
a  mere  resemblance  of  expression,  but  a  very  close 
one,  in  Homer : 

Mfj  TTargf'   uvTideov   AIZHMENO£,   ATTOi: 
'OAriMAI.  Od.  O.  90. 

NOTE.  132. 

P.  150.      There    is  also    a    compound 

SORT,  &C. 

When  the  meaning  of  an  author  cannot  be 
satisfactorily  explained,  all  that  a  translator  can  do, 
is,  to  be  particularly  careful  to  render  faithfully  his 
words.  This  I  have  endeavoured  to  do  here  :  but 
whether  I  have  done  even  this,  the  manifest  cor- 
ruption of  the  text  must  leave  uncertain.  What- 
ever sense *may  be  enveloped  in  the  Greek,  I  hope 
remains  enveloped  in  the  English.  But  what  that 
is,  I  will  not  undertake  to  say. — With  respect  to 
the  title  of  the  drama,  O^va-crtvg  ^gu^ayyfX®*,  if  I 
have  not  given  it  its  only  possible  sense,  I  have, 
surely,  given  it  its  most  natural  and  obvious 
sense  : — Ulysses  in  the  disguise  of  a  messenger. 
For  I  rnn  really  not  able  to  see,  how  the  words, 
without  violent  twisting,  can  be  made  to  signify 
passively,  as  Castelvetro  would  have  it,  ''  Ulisse  di 


i( 


CUl 


\ 


1$: 


'I 


I  sj**^ 


192  NOTES. 

*'  cut  sono  recate  false  novelh  ;"  though  Victorius 
has  pronounced  a  man  to  be  a  fool,  who  pretends 
to  determine  which  of  these  two  meanings  is  the 
right  one  *.  Had  o.  false  Ulysses  been  meant,  it 
seems  probable,  that  the  word  '¥vjMv<ra'iv^  would 
rather  have  l>een  used ;  as  H'iv^n^ocKXrt;,  The  false 
HerculeSy  was  the  title  of  a  Comedy  of  M enander. 

AvxyvupisvT^ — sc,  t8  fifar^a :  I  see  no  Other 
construction,  as  the  text  stands.  And  so  Vic- 
torius : — ''  Spectatores  ita  accepisse  illam  vocem, 
**  tanquam  si  ipsi,  rei  illius  auxilio,  ipsum  agni- 
"  turi  essent'^ 

Ulysses  seems  to  have  been  a  rich  and  valuable 
resource  to  the  dramatic  writers.  His  history  fur- 
nished the  subjects  of  many  ComedieSy  as  well  as 
Tragedies.  See  Casaubon  upon  Athenaeus, 
p.  297. — There  were,  Ulysses  IVounded — Ulysses 
Mad  —  Ulysses  the  Deserter  —  Ulysses  Ship- 
wrecked— Ulysses  Weaving^  &c. — The  subject  of 
the  play  here  mentioned  seems  to  have  been  sug- 
gested by  Homer,  Od.  H.  1 20.  But,  what  it  was— 
bow  this  discovery  was  compound  {(tv^^it^) — or 
how,  indeed,  it  was  a  discovery  at  all — ^what  the 
precise  paralogism  was,  &c.  I  confess  myself 
totally  unable,  from  the  short,  perplexed,  and  pro- 
bably corrupt  words  of  the  text,  to  make  out 
The  reader  may  see,  however,  a  great  variety  of 
different  conjectures  in   the  commentators;  and 

I  believe 

*  **  Haec  enim  ita  incerta  sunt,  ut  ilultum  esse  videatur 
aliquid  ipsorum  afiErmare." 


NOTES.  ipj 

I  believe  when  he  has  read  them  all,  he  will  find 
himself  just  where  he  was.  For  my  part,  I  leave 
this  bow  of  Ulysses  to  be  bent  by  stronger  arms 
than  mine : — 

NOTE    133. 

P.  151.  But  of  all  discoveries,  the  best 

IS  THAT  WHICH  ARISES  FROM  THE  ACTION" 
ITSELF . 

I  agree  with  those  commentators,  who  under- 
stand this  to  be  given  by  Aristotle  as  a  species  of 
Mayvu}(nrig  distinct  from  any  of  the  preceding. 
This  appears,  i .  From  his  examples,  which  are 
very  different  from  all  those  before  produced, 
and  not  reducible,  I  think,  to  any  of  his  classes. 
The  discovery  of  Iphigenia  by  the  letter,  is,  in- 
deed, mentioned  under  his  second  class,  but  not 
as  an  instance  of  that  species. — See  note  1  ^4. 
2dly,  and  principally,  from  his  saying,  "  After  these, 
*'  the  nea:t  best  are  the  discoveries  by  inference'' — 
^naming  an  entire  species;  which  he  would  not, 
surely,  have  done,  had  his  best  of  all  discoveries 
been  such,  as  might  be  found  equally  in  the  other 
species ;  had  he  been  speaking,  as  some  under- 
stand  him,  only  of  the  best  way  of  using  the 
discoveries  already  enumerated. 


vox..  H. 


'94 


NOTES. 


m 


,.(* 


NOTE    134. 

P.  151.     Such  discoveries  are  the  best, 

BECAUSE  THEY  ALONE  ARE  EFFECTED  WITHOUT 
INVENTED  FROOFS,  OR  BRACELETS,  &C.  NexT 
TO  THESE  ARE  THE  DISCOVERIES  BY  IN- 
FERENCE. 

If  the  words,  ir£iro*ii/A«vwv  tnnixnuvy  refer,  as  it  1$ 
generally  understood,  to  the  secorid  sort  of  disco- 
veries exclusively,  it  is  not  easy  to  see  how  it  can 
'  be  true,  that  the  Jiftk  and  best  sort  of  discoveries, 
that  £x  TrpayfActTuv,  is  the  onlj^  one  that  is  effected 
without  uvcented  signs,  bracelet s^  &c. — for,  on^ 
this  supposition,  the  same  may  evidently  be  said 
of  tlie  third  ^uA  fourth  classes,  those  by  mermry, 
and  by  inference^  which  are  expressly  distinguished 
from  the  two  first  classes. 

This  inconsistence  is  not,  I  think,  to  be  removed, 
but  by  understanding  the  words  TriTroinj^tEva  <r?ip£i«, 
here,  to  be  used  in  a  wider  sense,  as  including  the 
third  ^.ni  fourth  species,  and,  in  general,  all  dis- 
coveries that  have  any  degree  of  the  defect  which 
Aristotle  means  to  point  out  by  the  expression 
w£7ro»t)/x£vat  uTro  t8  woitiTK,  used  in  describing  the 
S€C07id  species,  as  opposed  to  what  he  calls,  if 
a^rm  fr^xyfAotruy ;  though  that  second  species  only 
is  expressly  so  denominated,  because  it  had  thii 
fault  in  the  most  glaring  degree. 

Any  incident,  or  single  action,  of  that  combi- 
nation of  actions  that  compose  a  fable,  is  said, 

I  think. 


NOTES.  195 

I  think*  to  be  i^  u^rtiiy  7rpay[ji.aTuv,  when  it  is  pre- 
pared  in  the  texture  of  the  plot,  and  appears  to 
follow  so  naturally  and  of  course  (jcara  to  ctVay- 
mmMit  i  ro  tlx^ — )  from  the  incidents  which  precede 
it,  that  the  spectator  does  not  see  how  it  could 
have  been  otherwise*.  On  the  contrary,  those 
incidents  are  not  tf  aurwy  Tr^ayfAaruv,  which  are  not 
thus  gradually  prepared,  but  have,  more  or  less, 
the  appearance  of  expedients  brought  in  to  answer 
the  purpose  of  tFie  moment;  which  suggest  the 
idea  of  occasional  and  easy  contrivance ;  which, 
though  not,  perhaps,  improbable,  yet  have  not 
such  a  degree  of  probability,  as  answers  fully  the 
purpose  of  dramatic  illusion,  by  acting  upon  the 
inind  of  the  spectator  as  72ecessity  *,  and  keepinc^ 
his  attention  rivetted  to  the  action,  without  suf- 
fering him,  as  it  were,  to  turn  his  eyes  a  moment 
from  it,  to  the  resources  of  the  Poefs  invention. 

Now  the  third  ond  fourth  sorts  of  discovery 
appear,  when  we  examine  them,  to  be  of  thk  kind. 

They 

*  What  is  here  expressed  by,  eicxuruf  Tr^aYfxaTvv,  is  more^ 
fully  expressed,  cap,  x.  where  he  says  of  the  discovery 
and  revolution,  that  they  should  arise  ki  cumi,;  rrn  a-vrcwiug 
ritfjujGH'  iff  EKTHN  nPOrEFENHMENaN  (rufjSaivnv,  • 
ii  si  avaywi  h  xata  to  slii^,  ytyvsaQat  raura,  TransL 
Part  II.  Sect.  8. 

**  *'  Pulsque  la  fonction  du  vraisemblable  dans  la  Tra- 
**  gedie,  est  d'empecher  de  s'appercevoir  dc  la  feinte,  le 
'*  vraisemblable  qui  trompe  le  mieux  est  le  plus  parfait,  et 
**  c'est  celui  qui  devient  neceisaire''  Fontenelle,  Refl 
fur  la  Poetique,  Sect,  ^3. 

O  2 


ih 


196  *        N    O    T    E    S. 

They  are  not  prepared  and  brought  on  gradually 
by  the  precious  circumstances  of  the  fable,  as  in 
the  examples  given  fiorn  the  Oedipus,  and  Iphi- 
gerua  in  TauriSy  but  effected  by  contrivances,  more 
or  less  naturally  introduced  by  the  Poet,  at  the 
moment  w  hen  they  are  wanted ;  by  tears  suddenly 
shed  at  the  sight  of  a  picture,  by  an  exclajmtion 
suddenly  uttered.  These,  therefore,  are  not  im- 
properly included  under  tlic  denomination  of 
«-i7r<wu/Af>a  (uVo  ra  Troiurs) ;  and  they  are,  also,  in 
the  proper  and  logical  sense  of  the  word,  trn^ua ; 
the  tears,  in  the  one  case,  and  the  illative  reflection, 
'or  €j:clamation,  in  the  other,  being  signs  or  tokens, 
by  which  the  persons  are  recognized.  And  thus, 
what  Aristotle  here  says  seems  true— that  the  dis- 
covery which  arises  out  of  the  action  itself]  is  the 
only  sort  that  is  mtirely  effected  «wu  r«v  n^TrQi^fAtytcf 
€fifAiMtf  XXI  T£^»Jfpatw> :  by  vB^ih^xnx,  meanintr  the 
Jirst  class  of  discovenes,  and  under  Triw.  <rrj/x. 
comprehending  the  three  other  classes. 

He  has,  plainly,  arranged  his  modes  of  dis- 
covery, as  he  had  before  arranged  the  modes  of 
managing  the  Traflai,  or  disastrous  incidents,  of 
Tragedy  {cap,  xiv.)— in  the  order  of  their  com- 
parative excellence ;  beginning  with  the  worst,  and 
proceeding  gradually  to  the  best.  ,  When  he  tells 
us,  that  the  discoveries  by  inference  are  the  next 
best,  he  evidently  considers  them,  as  not  being, 
strictly  at  least,  s^  auVwv  7rpay/*aT«i- ;  and  so  far, 
I  think,  is  intelligible :  but,  in  what  respect  they 

are 


NOTES.  197 

are  better  than  the  preceding  species,  $iol  fAunfAn^ 
he  has  not  told  us.     The  discovery  by  recollection 
may,  perhaps,  in  this  respect  be  regarded  as  less 
fj  auTtwv   ir^xyiAKTm,   or,    more  of  the   *'  Poet's 
making,''  as  it  seems  to  require  tiie  introduction 
of  something  accidental  and  extraneous,  such  as 
the  picture  in  his  first  instance,  and  the  Bard  and 
his   performance,  in  the  second ;  circumstances, 
which  have   more  the  appearance  of  expedients 
than  the  reflection  of  Orestes,  for  example,  in  the 
Tragedy  of  Polyides.     For  that  reflection  arose, 
at  least,  naturally,  and  solely,  from  his  situation, 
and  that  situation  was  essential  to  the  fable. — But 
it  is  tin>e  to  release  the  reader,  and  myself,  from 
the  embarrassments  of  one  of  the  most  corrupt, 
confused,  and  ambiguous  chapters  of  this  mutilated 
and  disfigured  work. 

NOTE    135. 

P.  152.  This,  the  Poet,  &c. 
'O  fi.yi  o^u¥T(k  Toi»  iiarnv  Ixay^xviv.  Dacier  has, 
at  least,  I  think,  satisfactorily  proved,  that  this 
passage  wants  some  emendation,  and  that  the  sense 
must  be—"  escaped  the  Poet,  (not  the  spectator,) 
"  for  want  of  his  seeing,  or  conceiving  himself  to 
"  see,  tlie  action."  He  might  have  added  to  his 
other  reasons,  that  the  word  Xxvixyono,  applied 
just  before  to  the  Poet^  seems  to  fix  the  same 
application  of  Ixav^xyi  here.  The  opposition,  as 
he  has  observed,  is  strongly  marked :— it  escaped 

O  3  the 


w 


198  NOTES. 

the  Poet)  i-rri  AE  mi  SKHNHI,  &c.  but  upon 
the  stage,  &c.  Castelvetro  had  seen  this  before 
Dacier,  and  conjectured,  0  ^ah,  o^uvrx,  X22  ro¥ 
fiiATtik,  iXav^autif  AN.  "  La  qual  contrariety  non 
"  sarebbe  potuto  essere  celata  a  Carcino,  se 
"  avesse  riguardata  la  sua  Tragedia  non  come 
"  Poeta,  ma  come  veditore^.'"  The  ingenuity  of 
the  conjecture  may  be  allowed ;  not  so,  I  fear,  the 
accuracy  of  the  Greek. 

NOTE    136. 

P.   152.       In    COMPOSING,  THE  PoET  SHOULD 
ALSO,  AS  MUCH  AS  POSSIBLE,  BE  AN  ACTOR. 

—  ToK   <r^ij/tAa(r»   (rvvocTrtfyx^ofAsyoy   wonty  —  The 

same  expression  occurs  in  the  Rhetoric,  III.  8. — 

avayxri  rsf  (rvvot7rs^yx^o[j.iViig  (r^'n[xoc(ri,  xxi  ^wkaif,  xon 
itrOijT*,    xon   oAwg   Tt»  uttoxoice*,   iXstiyors^Hq  ilyai.      But 

there,  this  is  mentioned  only  as  the  means,  by 
which  the  Orator  may  excite  greater  emotion  in 
the  hearer,  immediately  :  here,  as  the  means,  by 
which  the  Poet  may  excite  a  stronger  emotion,  a 
greater  reality  of  imagination  and  feeling,  and  a 
more  perlect  alienation  of  person,  if  I  may  ven- 
ture so  to  call  it,  in  himself,  immediately ;  in  order 
to  produce  afterwards  a  correspondent  effect  upon 
the  spectator,  by  the  force  and  truth  of  his  imi- 
tation. 

"  I  have  often  observed,''  says  the  admirable 
author  of  the  Inquiry  conccrniyig  the  Sublime  and 

Beautiful, 

*  ^.  371- 


NOTES.  ,99 

Beautiful,    "  that  on  mimicking   the  looks  and 
"  gestures   of  angry,  or  placid,  or   frighted,  or 
'*  daring  men,  I  have  involuntarily  found  my  mind 
turned  to  that  passion  whose  appearance  I  en- 
deavoured to  imitate ;  nay,  I  am  convinced  it 
"  is  hard  to  avoid  it,  tliough  one  strove  to  sepa- 
*'  rate  the   passion  from  its  correspondent  ges- 
tures \''      I    believe,    however,    it   is    hardly 
possible  tp  put  on  the  bodily  appearance  of  any 
passion,  without  previously  turning  the  mind,  in 
some  degree,  to  that  passion.     But  it  is  certain, 
that  the  effect,  in  tliis  case,   will  react  upon  the 
cause,  and  convert  a  slight  and  nascent  emotion 
into  a  more  steady,  strong,  and  real  feeling  of  the 
passion. 

A  singular  instance  of  the  practice  of  this  rule 

of  Aristotle — 0';^?)ua(ri    a-Myonri^yxl^oii.iyov    irQiuv — in 

a  sister  art,  is  given  in  the  following  curious  ac- 
count, from  Felibicn,  of  Domenichino,  a  painter 
remarkable  for  expression, 

"  II  ne  pouvoit  comprendre  qu'il  y  eut  des 
peintres  qui  travaillassent  k  des  ouvrages  consi- 
"  derables  avec  si  peu  d  application,  que  pendant 
*'  leur  travail  ils  ne  laissassent  pas  de  s  entretenir 
"  avec  leurs  amis.  II  les  regardoit  comme  des 
^'  ouvriers  qui  n  avoient  que  le  pratique,  et  nulle 
"  intelligence  de  lart;  etant  persuaJ6  qu'un 
"  Peintre,  pour  bien  r^iissir,  doit  entrer  dans  une 
^ "  parfaite 

Pan  IV.  Sect.  IV. — Sec  also  die  curious  accoun 
there  given  of  CampaneUa. 

04  *     . 


i  ^ 
i»^l 


u 

€< 

u 


li 


iC 


200  .NOTES. 

''  parfaite  connoissance  des  affections  de  lesprit 
et  des  passions  de  Tame ;  qu'il  doit  les  sentir 
en  lui  mSme,  et  s'il  faut  ainsi  dire,  faire  Its 
memes  actions  et  soufrir  les  mhnes  mouvemens 
qu^il  veut  representer :  ce  qui  ne  se  peut  ai> 
milieu   des  distractions.     Aussi  on  lentendoit 
quelquefois  parler  en  travaillant,  avec  une  voix 
languissante  et  pleine  de  douleur,  ou  tenir  de» 
"  discours  agreables  et  joyeux,  selon  les  divers 
"  sentimens  qull  avoit  intention  d  exprimer.  Mais 
pour  cela,  il  s  enferuioit  dans  un  lieu  fort  retir6, 
"  pour  n'fitre  pas  apperju  dans  ces  differens  ^tats, 
**  ni  par  ses  cloves,  ni  par  ceux  de  sa  famille ; 
"  parcequ'il  lui  ^toit  arriv^  quelquefois,  que  des 
**  gens    qui    lavoient    vu    dans  ces   transports, 
"  IVvoient  soup^onn^  de  folie.     Lorsque  dans  sa 
*^  jeunesse  il  travaiUoit  au  Tableau  du  Martyre 
*'  de  S.  Andr^  qui  est  h  S.  Gregoire,  Annibal 
Carrache  etant  alle   pour  le  voir,  il  le  surprit 
"  comme   il  ^toit   dans   une  action  de  colere  et 
"  menagante.      Apres    lavoir    observe    quelque 
"  temps,  il  connut  qu'il  representoit  un  soldat  qui 
*^  menace  le  S.  Ap6tre.     Alors  ne  pouvant  plus. 
*'  se  tenir  cach6,  il  s  approcha  du  Domeniquin,  et 
*^  en  I'embrassant,  lui  avoiia  qu'il  avoit  dans  ce 
"  moment-Ic\  beaucoup  appris.de  lui  ^" 

I  will  just  observe,  farther,  that  this  precept,  or 
rather  counsel,  of  Aristotle,  would  appear  the  less 

strange 


^  Fdibkn.^Entntiens  sur  Us  ^Us  dts   Peintrcs^   &c. 
tome  iii.  p.  379. 


NOTES.  201 

strange  to  the  Poets  of  his  time,  because,  as  he 
himself  tells  us,  the  earlier  Tragic  Poets  were  also 

actors:  uVix^«MifTi  ya^  aJro*  Tf«ywJ*ac  oi  ttoiutam  to 

*^»Toy.~Rhet,  III.  1.— But,  indeed,  I  am  so  far 
from  seeing  any  thing  strange  or  improbable  in  this 
advice,  that,  on  the  contrary,  if  it  be  liable  to  any 
objection  at  all,  it  is,  perhaps,  rather  to  that  of 
being  unnecessary :  for  I  scarce  believe,  that  any 
Poet  of  genius,  antient  or  modern,  ever  yet  com- 
posed a  Tragedy  without  practising  involuntarily, 
in  some  degree  or  other,  what  the  critic  here  re- 
commends.    No  dramatic   Poetry,   I  think,  can 
be  less  chargeable  with  the  /4«hxov,  than  that  of 
tlie  French,     Yet  M.  Marmontel  sees  no  diffi- 
culty in  this  precept.     In  his  account  of  this  part 
of  Aristotle's   work,  he  says,    "  II  recommande 
que  Ton  soit  present  k  Taction  que  Ton  veut 
peindre,  que  Ton  se  p^netre  soi-meme  des  sen- 
**  timens  que  Ton  doit  exprimer,  et  qu'on  imite, 
"  en  composant,   Taction  des  personnages  qu'on 
*'  met  sur  la  scene :  m^thode  qui  contribue  i^l- 
**  lement  k  donner  au  style  plus  de  chaleur  et  de 
"  v^rit6."    [Poet.  Franc,  I.  p.  15.]     Mr.  Mason 
says  of  the  late  ingenious  and  amiable  Mr.  White- 
head,    whose    dramatic    compositions,   whatever 
other  merit  may  justly  be  allowed  them,  certainly 
bear  no  marks  of  any  unmanageable  phrensy  in 
the  Poet,— that  "  he  is  apt  to  believe,  that  he 
"  always  acted,  or  at  least  declaimed,  while  he  was 
"  composing  for  tlic  stage."     I^  thai,  even  the 

modem 


c« 


iC 


i^ll 


I 


K    O    T    E    S. 

^W*m  Tragic  Poet  is,  almost  necessarily,  more 
or  less,  "  an  actor  in  composing,"  there  can 
surely  be  little  difficulty  in  conceiving  an  iEschy- 
lus,  or  a  Sophocles,  in  their  free,  solitary,  and 
unwritten  meditations,  to  have  given  still  greater 
scope  to  their  imaginations,  and,  'OZA  ATNATON, 

at  least,  fryyifxotin  a-vyoLWi^yocc-octrixt.      We  must,   for 

once,  divest  ourselves  of  modem  ideas,  and  think, 
not  of  a  spruce  Poet  of  "  these  degenerate  days,** 
shut  up  in  his  study,  with  his  pen  in  his  hand, 
and  his  WTiting-table  before  him— but  of  Euripides,- 
retired  into  that  lonely,  dark,  and  shaggy  cavern, 
which  is  said  to  have  been  the  favourite  scene  of 
his  Tragic  meditations.  "  Philochorus  refert,  in 
**  insula  Salamine  speluncam  esse  tetram  et  horri- 
"  dam,  quam  nos  vidimus,  in  qua  Euripides  Tra- 
"  gctdim  scriptitdritr—Aul.  Gell.  xv.  20. 

NOTE    137. 
E.  152.       Foil    BY    NATURAL    SYMPATHV,    &C. 

fiVi.— Nothing,  I  think,  can  be  more  forced  and 
improbabloj  than  the  sense  given  to  the  words, 
»Vo  Tu^  auTUf  ^uTcwf,  by  Victorius,  and,  after  him, 
by  Goulston  and  Dacier :  "  eorum  qui  pari  naturd 
"  ingenioque  praditi,  &c.—De  deux  hommes  qui 
"  sermt  d'un  egal  genie,  celui  qui  se  mettra  dans 
"  la  passion  sera  toujours  plus  persuasif." 

If  the  text  be  right,  the  only  sense  I  see  is  that 
given  by  Hebsius  :--^"  propter  similituditiem  ejus- 

"  dan 


*i 


-V 


NOTES.  203 

" — i.e.  ^^JrtmmLtural  sympathy!' 
— But  I  am  much  deposed  tanm^KCt,  thai  ^le 
should  read,  aV  ATTHS  TH2  ^vtriut^—ab  ipsd 
naturd ; — Ipsd  naturd  comparatum  est,  ut,  &c. — 
A  similar,  but  contrary,  transposition,  of  the  same 
words,  occurred  at  the  end  of  the  second  chapter : 
ly  aJrn  it  ry  $ix(po^a, — plainly,  as  Victorius  ob- 
serves, instead  of  Iv  THi  ATTHi—.  And,  indeed, 
this  sense  is  so  obvious,  that  Robortelli,  Castel- 
vetro,  and  Piccolomini,  have  all  given  it  ii:  their 
translations,  though  certainly  not  warranted  by  the 
text.  However,  as  the  other  reading  seems  to 
express,  though  somewhat  obscurely,  the  same 
idea,  I  have  not  departed  from  it  any  farther,  than 
by  adopting  the  explanatory  version  of  Heinsius, 
which  takes  the  meaning,  and  leaves  the  obscurity. 

NOT£    138. 

P.  152.  We  SHARE  THE  AGITATION  OF 
THOSE  WHO  APPEAR  TO  BE  TRULY  AGITATED — 
THE  ANGER  OF  THOSE  WHO  APPEAR^  TO  BE 
TRULY    ANGRY. 

^o/xcjr©*  oAiifitj/wTfltTtf.  I  have  given  that  sense 
of  this  passage,  in  which  all  the  commentators  I 
have  seen  are  perfectly  agreed.  But  I  cannot  dis- 
semble a  difficulty  which  has  always  occurred  to 
me  in  this  interpretation,  though,  to  my  surprise, 
I  have  not  found  it  any  where  taken  notice  of. 
I  mean,  that  it  gives  a  transitive  sense  to  the  verbs, 


m 


i»ll 


1 


1 


«04  NOTES. 

Xt^l^nH,  and  x«A'*<»»«..     With  respect,  particu- 
larly, to  the  verb  x«^«Ta.M.»,  (for  Uie  other  occurs 
but  seldom,)  the  difficulty  from  the  general,  if  not 
the  constant,  use  of  it,  as  a  verb  neuter,  seems 
not  easily  to  be  overcome.     This  use  of  it,  by 
Aristotle  himself,  and  by  other  prose  writers,  is 
so  common  and  well  known,  that  it  would  be  mere 
trifling  to  produce  instances.     That  it  is  timer 
used    by  them   transitively,    it    would    be  rash, 
perhaps,  even  in  those,   whose  Greek  reading  is 
much  more  extensive  than  my  own,  to  affirm.     I 
can  only  say,  Uiat  I  have  never  seen  a  clear  in- 
stance of  it,  either   in   prose,   or  verse.      The 
lexicographers,  indeed,  send  us  to  Homer:  but 
without  giving  any  instance  that  appears  to  me  to 
be  at  all  decisive*.     And,  on  the  other  hand,  tiie 
word  occurs  clearly  in  its  usual  and  intransitive 
sense  in  other  passages:  as,  //.  S.  256.  n.  386. 
2.  1 03,  &c.     But  even  admitting  the  verb  to  be 
now  and  then  used  by  Homer  in  a  sense  indis- 
putably transitive,   it  seems  very  unlikely,  that 
Aristotle  should  transplant  so  rare,  and  poetical, 
a  use  of  tlie  word,  into  plain  and  philosophical 
prose ;  especially  as  other  verbs  were  probably  at 
hand,  if  he  meant  what  he  is  supposed  to  mean, 

which  would  not  liave  been  liable  to  this  ambi- 
guity. 

This  difficulty  has  sometimes  led  me  to  sus- 
pect,  that  the  passage  may  possibly,   after  all, 

admit 

!  See  11.  T.  183. 


U 


« 


a 


€C 


iC 


u 


NOTES.  205 

admit  of  a  different  sense ;  and  that  Aristotle 
may  have  meant  only  to  say  this :  — "  The  Poet 
should  work  himself,  as  far  as  may  be,  into  tlie 
passion  he  is  to  represent,  by  even  assuming 
"  the  countenance,  and  the  gestures,  which  are 
**  its  natural  expressions.  For  they,  of  course, 
have  most  probability  and  truth  in  their  imi- 
tation, who  actually  feel,  in  some  degree,  the 
passion:  and  no  one  expresses  agitation  of 
mind  (;^«jw.aiv£»)  so  naturally,  (aX»i9i^£i?TaT«,)  as 
"  he  who  is  really  agitated,  (x^t/AaC^^i^fv^,)  or 
"  expresses  anger  (x^Xt-nrxi^ii)  so  naturally,  as  he 
**  who  is  really  angry  (ofy»^o|Uf»^.)" — Thus,  the 
forms,  ;)^£*/Aatk6t,  ^xXtfrxivn,  will  retain  their  neuter 
signification,  referring  to  the  Poet's  expression  of 
the  passion  in  his  composition ;  as,  p^n/Aa^o/Ltik®*, ' 
and  efyifo/x£v^,  refer  to  the  internal  feeling  of 
the  passion,  which  he  has  excited  in  his  own  mind. 
X(tfAoc^i(r9on — to  be  violently  agitated  in  mind : — 
XufAxmiv — to  express  that  agitation  by  words  or 
actions^:  ©^yt^to-Sar — to  be  angry:  ;p^«x«r«tv£»v — 
to  express  that  anger  by  words  or  actions. — It 
will,  perhaps,  be  objected,  that  ;^«Xfir«iv£iv,  used 
as  a  verb  neuter,  appears  to  be  synonymous  with 
•^yt^i(r9ai.  That  it  may  be  often  so,  I  will  not 
take 

**  This  verb  seenfis  to  be  rare.  I  neither  recollect,  nor 
can,  at  present,  find,  any  other  instance  of  it,  than  in  the 
9th  Pastoral  of  Theocritus,  v.  20,  where  it  is  us?d  im- 
personally: ;)c«/iam?vT©-,  i.e.  when  it  is  winter,  Aa, 
instance,  which,  as  far  as  it  goes,  is  in  favour  of  the  sense 
I  would  give  to  the  word  here. 


^j 


pa 


El 


9- 


^o6  NOTES.- 

take  upon  me  to  deny :  but  numerous  instances 

waKf  ceptmtiy  be  jM^tioced,  where  it  is  not  so — 

where  it  clearly  denotes  something  beyonlr  te^ 

mere  internal  passion.     In  this  line  of  Homer,  for 

example; 

Zeu^,     otb    Sfi    ^    av^KTo-i    KOTE2ZAMENOE 

XAAEOH/NH/.  //.  n.  386. 

— "  iratus  sctciat  f — where  the  anger  of  Jupiter 

is  exj)ressed  by  xorivrafMyO*;  but  y^akiv1^y^  goes 

on  to  the  external  demonstration  of  it,  on  Xo^^- 

So,  too,  Od.  T.  V.  83. 

Mri    TTcog   to*    Sec'TTOivct    zoTBCO'ufjLBVTi    XAAEIIH*- 

NH< 

— which,  in  vulgar*  language,  would  be  fairly  ren- 
dered, **  lest  your  mistress  should  be  angry,  and 
**  scoldJ^ 

Thus,  again,  II.  H.  256,  of  Jupiter : 
-  -  -  0  J^'  l7rey^oiJLBv&^  XAAEIIAINE 
PinTAZXlN  KATA  AflMA  0EOTZ. — 

In  the  very  passage  adduced  to  exemplify  the 
transitive  use  of  this  verb,  //.  T.  1 83,  it  appears 
to  have  the  same  sense :  for  the  words,  on  tic 
w^oT$^&»  p^aAiwiivn,  allude  to  Agamemnon's  own 
words,  //.  B.  378. 

Kcci  ycc^  lyeav  A%<X6t;5  tb  iJiMX^(J'8'oc[juff ,  Imicoc  xa^ifig, 

APTihm  EDEEIIIN    lyu  $'  HPXON   XAAE- 

nAINXlN. 

XxXiTTonmv  is  here,  I  think,  put  as  synonymous 

with    /x<*;^i(r9«i   fTHo-o-jy.     Agamemnon   confesses, 

that 


NOTES.  207 

that  he  himself  gave  the  first  verbal  provocation ; 
alluding,  I  think,  to  his  speech,  v.  131,  where  he 
first  hints  at  the  seizure  of  Briseis.  For  thouah 
Achilles  speaks,  indeed,  somewhat  roughly  to  the 
king  in  the  preceding  speech,  yet  his  wrath  cannot 
properly  be  said  to  commence  before  the  subse- 
quent speech,  il  /not,  ivxihrn,  &c.  v.  149. 

I  shall  add  only  an  instance  or  two  more. — In 
the  first  book  of  Plato's  Repub,  Socrates  says  to 
Thrasymachus, — €X£«(r9a«  *i^  i»/Lta?  iroXv  [xxXXou  iJx®* 

in   TTH,   uVo   ifxw  Twv  hmuvy  i    XAAEIIAINEKs^Ar — • 

I.  e.  "  we  deserve  rather  to  be  pitied  by  you  wise 
"  men,  than  to  be  scolded  at." — In  the  passage 
quoted  note  22,  p.  283,  vol.  i.  Plato  says  of  a 

dog, — o¥  fAiy  tiy  \h  dymrx,  XAAEnAINEI* — ly  $' 
my  yyu^ifAoy^  ASIIAZETAI;  ^^ fawHs  on  those  he 
"  knows,  and  barks  at  strangers."  In  the  Memo- 
TMbilia  of  Xenophon,  II.  2,  we  have — Aio-Jo^fj/®* 

h   TTOTB  AxfJLTF^OX^tX,    TOk   ZJ-^tfT^VTOCTOy    ViOy   IXVTB,  WPO^ 

rnyfAnrf^oL  XAAEHAINONTA :  i.e.  '' when  he  had 
"  heard  him  speaking  angrily  to  his  mother." 

It  seems,  then,  that  the  passage  will  fairly  admit 
of  the  meaning  I  have  proposed.  And  whether 
that  meaning  would  not  be  more  to  Aristotle's 
purpose,  than  the  other;  I  willingly  submit  to  tlie 
reader's  consideration.  For  zvhy  recommend  it 
to  the  Poet  to  help  his  imagination  by  action, 
when  he  composes  ? — plainly,  for  the  sake  of  the 
effect  of  this  method  upon  his  poetry;  that  his 
expression  of  passion  may  have  more  of  truth  and 

nature ; 


nj 


¥^ 


ill 


11 


^1 


!io8  NOTES. 

nature;  that  bis  diameters  may  ;^ttjLtaiv#f>,  or 
^(xhtvamiv,  dktihvuTATa  *.  Now  it  seeins  more 
consonant  to  this  purpose,  that  the  words  which 
follow  as  the  reason  of  the  advice,  should  refer 
to  this  immediate  effect  upon  the  Poet's  work, 
which  is  the  object  of  the  advice,  than  to  the 
more  remote  and  implied  effect  of  the  work  upon 
the  spectator.  It  seems,  indeed,  to  have  been 
this  reference  to  the  audience,  in  the  usual  way 
of  understanding  the  passage,  that  led  Madius 
into  the  mistake  of  supposing  this  precept  intended, 
not  for  the  Poet,  but  for  the  Player. 

Such  are  my  objections  to  the  sense  hitherto 
given  to  this  passage,  and  my  reasons  for  think- 
ing, that  its  meaning  may  have  been  mistaken. 
I  abandon  them,  without  reserve,  to  the  judgment 
of  the  learned  reader :  in  my  own,  it  is  impossible 
lor  me  to  confide,  when  I  reflect,  that  the  whole 
band  of  commentators,  who  have  preceded  me, 
have  acquiesced,  without  doubt  or  scruple,  in 
that  interpretation  which  to  me  appears  so  unsa- 
tisfactory. 
«  I  II II  I     II        I         ^— ^—     I-      ■        III 

*  It  is  somewhat  in  favour  of  this  interpretation,  that 
it  gives  the  adverb,  ax^QivuTaraf  its  most  natural  and 
obvious  construction,  with  the  verbs,  x«A*«'^*  ^md  ;c«^" 
woivit.  As  the  passage  is  commonly  understood^  it  must 
be  joined  with  the  participles. 


K    O    T    E    8, 


%o^ 


NOTE    139. 

P.  15a.     Great   natural  quickness   of 

PARTS   -    -    •. 

Eu^u8f  i  7rot»jT«x?)  Iriv  -  -  -.      EugjuVa — OHTTHX. 

Hesychius.  See  also  Casaub.  upon  Athenaeus, 
P-  454>  and  Suidas,  mc.  Eu^ua,  and  Eui^JuTa,  where 
the  passage  he  quotes  from  Alex.  Aphrod.  shews 
what  was  the  common  idea  of  liovlx,  thoucrh  its 
fropriety  is  disputed.     The  il^\)iiq  were  gent-ally 

understood  to  be  ot  px^iuig — [Aapiocvovrig,  eixoiug  is 
i^oyrii  TT^og  irxvrx  rot,  /xaOrj^ara,  &C.  The  pas- 
sage seems  to  allude  to  EtJuc.  Nicom.  IIL  5. 
p.  113.  ed.  TVilk 

No  epithet  can  be  more  exactly  ^adapted  to  tlie 
f u^uTif,  than  that  of  £uVAar(&',  which  follows ;  a 
man  of  quick,  mimetic  parts,  who  can  tur?i  him- 
self ,  as  we  say,  to  every  thing  with  equal  facility, 
and  mould  himself,  without  effort,  to  every  form. 
But  the  word  had  considerable  latitude,  and  would 
have  been  applied  by  the  antients,  to  the  genius 
of  a  Shakspeare,  the  talents  of  a  Foote  *,  or  the 
docility  of  a  school-boy  ^ 

*  Philip  of  Macedon  would  have  caressed  such  a  man 
as  Foote.  He  delighted,  we  are  told,  avQ^wjroi;  T0I2 
ET^TESI  Kc^iitvoig,  KM  TA  FEAOIA  AErOTII  KAI 
nOIOTSr.  ^Mf«.  260. 

^  Uacfa  Ttuv  ET^TXIN,  says  Isocrates,  speaking  of  scho- 
lars,   hi    fxeyav   hofx^amv   tuakv,   pri   IIOAAA   MAN0A'  . 
NOTE  I*  TTo^a  Je  T«v 'A4>TX2N,  brt  'jtoTO^  xoTf^i  wcK^c^H^i, 
—An  admirable  inscription  for  a  school  door. 

VO  L.  II.  p 


m 


:  il 


\ 


SIO 


.NOTES. 


NOTE  140. 

P,  152.     Or,    an  enthusiasm  allied   to 

MADNESS . 

'H  [xxviKu. — My  translation  here  will,  I  fear,  he 
thought  too  paraphrastical.  But  this  is  one  among 
many  passages,  that  have  occurred,  where  I  have 
found  it  impossible  to  give,  at  the  same  time, 
word  for  word,  and  idea  for  idea.  This,  indeed, 
is  the  great  misfortune  of  translation ;  for  what 
Mr.  Harris  has  observed  is  too  true, — that  "  much 
"  of  the  force  of  the  original  will  necessarily  be 
"  lost  in  the  translation,  where  single  words  io 
"  one  language  cannot  be  found  corresponding 
"  to  single  words  in  the  other*." 

The  word,  f^xvix^,  wanted  no  explanation  to 
Greek  readers,  to  whom,  from  the  writings  of 
Plato,  in  particular,  it  was  familiar  to  consider 
enthusiasm  of  every  kind,  as  a  species  oimadness\ 
They  would  understand  no  more,  from  Aristotle's 
expression,  than  that  comparative  insanity  which 
Cicero  has  so  exactly  expressed : — Poctam  bonum 

*'  neminem sine    i7iJlammatione    animorum 

"  existere 


•  Phllos.  Arrang,  p.  2il,  note, 

^  Sec,  particularly,  the  Ph^drus,  p.  244,  245,  ed,  Serr. 
' — Aristotle  himself,  tcx),  in  his  Rhetoric,  says— -"ENQEON 
ya^  rt 'TToirKTig,  III.  7.  ed,  Duval. — I  cannot  help  just  re- 
minding the  reader  of  the  admirable  humour  with  which 
Horace  ridicules  the  practical  abuse  of  this  idea,  in  his 
Art  of  Poetry,  v.  295 — 304. 


NOTES.  2ir 

^'  existere  posse,  et  sine  quodam  afflatu  quasi 
**  furoris*." — But  what  can  a  mere  modern  reader 
tliink,  when  he  is  told,  in  Dacier's  translation, 
that,  to  succeed  in  Poetry,  "  il  faut  avoir  un  genie 
*'  excellent,  ou  etre  furij^ux?" 

Nor  could  I,  without  danger  of  confounding 
the  philosopher's  distinction,  have  rendered  £u>ui« 
by  the  single  word  genius ;  which,  as  we  usually 
apply  it  to  the  fine  arts,  implies  much  of  that  very 
warmth,  and  illusive  power,  of  imagination,  that 
**  infiammatio  animorum''  which  Aristotle  meant 
to  express  by  the  other  word,  /xawxoy. 

I  must  not  omit,  that  this  whole  passage  re* 
ceives  considerable  illustration  from  another,  in 
the  ProblemSy  pointed  out  by  Mr.  Winstanley  in 
his  edition,  p.  292**. 

If  Aristotle  had  given  any  instance  of  the 
ixnnx^  among  the  Tragic  Poets,  it  would,  in  all 
probabihty,  have  been  iEschylus.  It  is  pleasant 
to  observe  the  appearance  which  the  wild  invention 
and  ferocious  sublimity  of  his  Prometheus,  had 
to  the  eye  of  a  French  critic,  of  admirable  good 
sense,  indeed,  but,  xot^ha,  y^Kpei^T®^.  "  Je  crois,** 
says  Fontenelle,  "  qu'  Eschile  etoit  une  ma- 
"  NiERE  DE.  FOU,  qui  avoit  rimagination  tres- 


(( 


Vive, 


•  De  Or.  II.  46. 

^  P.  817.  B.  ed.  DuvaL  'Otroig  h  Ucv/bcc — to  hirour]^  C, 
The  reading,  Urarut^^^  instead  of  ileranx^,  if  it  stood 
in  need  of  any  confirmation,  would  be  confirmed  by  this 
•ingle  passage  beyond  all  doubt. 

P  2 


^i 


tit  NOTES, 

^'  vive,  et  pas  trop  regime*."  He  would  probably 
have  said  much  the  same  of  Shakspeare.  The 
charge  certainly  cannot  be  retorted  upon  the  French 
Tragic  writers.  It  is  related  of  the  unfortunate 
Nat  Lee,  that,  when  he  was  in  Bedlam,  somAody 
had  the  inhumanity  to  tell  him,  it  was  a  very  easy 
thing  to  write  like  a  madman.  *'  No,"  replied 
the  Poet,  '*  it  is  not  an  easy  thing  to  write  like  a 
"  madman ;  but  it  is  a  very  easy  thing  to  write 
*'  like  a  fool."  I  believe  these  two  things  are 
almost  equally  difficult  to  our  ingenious  neigh- 
bours. It  would  be  hard  to  detect  Racine  writing 
like  a  fool.  But  I  confess  I  never  read  him 
without  wishing  he  had  written  a  little  more  like  a 
madman.  We  must  allow  him  much  merit; — 
but  he  never  "  rolled' his  eye"  in  the  *^  Jine 
phremy''  of  the  Poet;  he  knew  little  of  "the 
tricks*'  of  "  strong  imagination!^  The  character 
given  of  him  by  Lord  Kaims  appears  to  me  per- 
fectly exact  and  just;  that  *'  he  is  always  sensible, 
"  generally  correct,  never  falls  low,  maintains  a 
*^  moderate  degree  of  dignity  without  reaching  the 
sublime,  paints  delicately  tlie  tender  passions, 
but  is  a  stranger  to  the  genuine  language  of  en- 
"  thusiastic  or  fervid  passion  ^" 

I  have 

•  Tome  ix.  p.  415. — '*  II  me  semble,"  says  this  agree- 
able writer,  "  qu'il  ne  faudroit  donner  dans  le  sublime, 
'*  qu*  a  son  cdrps  defendant.**  [Preface  to  his  Hist,  dis 
Oracles.']  No  wonder  then,  that  he  could  not  relish 
^schylus.  *  E/ements  of  Crit,  vol.  i.  p.  ^2i$. 


cc 


ic 


NOTES.  213 

I  have  often  wondered,  what  it  was  that  could 
attach  Mr.  Gray  so  strongly  to  a  Poet  whose  ge-» 
nius  was  so  little  analogous  to  his  own  *.  I  must 
confess  I  cannot,  even  in  the  dramatic  fragment 
given  us  by  Mr.  Mason,  discover  any  other  resem- 
blance to  Racine,  than  in  the  length  of  the 
speeches.  Its  fault,  indeed,  is  Racine's;  its 
beauties  are,  surely,  of  a  higher  order.  What 
pity,  that  a  work  of  genius,  should  have  been 
smothered  in  its  birth,  by  a  little  cold  and  trifling 
criticism  ! — We  have,  indeed,  been  told,  that  **  it 
"  was  certairily  no  loss  to  the  English  stage,  that 
«  Agrippina  was  never  finished :"  but  we  have  been 
told  it  by  the  same  critic  who  has  pronounced, 
also,  that  the  Bard  of  Gray,  only  "  endeavours 
•*  at  sublimity  ;"  who  saw  in  the  juvenile  Poemi 
of  Miltori  "-  no  promise  of  Paradise  Lost;"  and 
who  has  admitted,  with  seeming  complacence^ 
into  the  catalogue  of  English  Poets,  such  names 
$is  Blackmore,  Yaldeny  and  Pomjret — 

^^  Alcandrumque     Haliumqu^     Noemonaquc 
Prytanimque !" — 

NOTE     141' 

P.  152.     When  the  Poet  invents  a  sub- 
ject   . 

Here  is  a  confusion  of  various  readings,  none 
of  them,  I  think,  free  from  suspicion.     How  the 

-  sense 

■  ■  ■  I  III       ,  f  I     , ,     ■  i» 

«  See  Letter  xvi.  Sect.  4.  of  the  Memoirs  of  Mr.  Graj. 

P3 


214  NOTES, 

sense  given  to  the  passage  by  Victorius,  and  almost 
all  the  commentators,  is  fairly  to  be  obtained 
from  any  of  tliem,  I  confess,  I  never  could  see. 
1  follow  the  common,  and,  ivf  my  opinion,  the  least 

suspicious,  reading — t«j  Tf*Aey8jT»?  7rf7rot»)/Afk«f — '. 

And  I  understand  Aristotle  to  speak  of  subjects, 
either  wholly  invented  by  the  Poet,  like  the  AvS^ 
of  Agatho,  or,  having  only  some  very  slight  and 
general  foundation  in  history  or  tradition.  — 
AoyO* — the  general  stm^y,  ov  argument. — (Aoy^* — 
*H  TOT  APAMATOX  TnoeESIX.  Hesychius.)— 
KAI  aCroy  iromifrix, — because,  I  Suppose,  such  drr- 
guments  were  commonly  drawn  up  by  others, 
probably  in  the  Ai^ao-xaXta*,  and,  perhaps,  pre- 
fixed to  the  copies  of  the  play.  But  here,  Aris- 
totle— "  poetam  etiam  ipsum  hoc  facere  jubet ; 
f*  quod  novum  erat,  et  inusitatum  :"  —  as  the 
force  of  KAI  ATTON  seems  rightly  explained  by 
Victorius. 

NOTE  142. 

P.  153.     When  he  has  given  names  to 

HIS    CHARACTERS .  • 

This  seems  to  shew  plainly,  that  by  Xoyaq 
'TmroififAtysg  the  critic  means  only  such  subjects  as 
were  of  the  Poet's  own  invention  *.  For  he  says — 
J frsf, 

*  Tag  AE  xoy8i,  which,  according  to  Victorius  has 
MS.  authority,  would,  perhaps,  be  preferable. 

•  As,  'TTE'TretTifjLivov  ovofjuxy  cap.  xxi.  *'  a  woni  of  the,  Poet*s 
"  invention" — veTroinfAiva  ffy](M£ia —  'KiTCOVf^titvat  avayvv^ttrtig, 

cap.  xvi» 


N  .  O    T    E    S.       ,  21^: 

fa'st,  form  a  general  sketch  of  your  fable ;  then, 
give  names  to  your  characters.    This  manifestly 
implies,  tliat  the  names  were  not  already  fixed  by 
history  or  tradition,  but  were  at  the  Poet's  choice. 
To  avoid  this  difficulty,  the  Abb6  Batteux  trans- 
lates, "  on  remet  les  noms  ^''     But  this,  certainly, 
is  not  what  Aristotle  says;  and  it  is  too  trifling, 
surely,  to  be  what  he  means.     If  the  names  are 
given   by  the  particular  history  which   the  Poet 
follows,  what  purpose  will  it  answer  to  omit  them 
in  his  plan  ? — They  will  certainly  be  in  his  muid ; 
they  may  as  well  be  upon  his  paper.    In  sliort,  thei. 
method  here  recommended  by  Aristotle  seems  per- 
fectly absurd  and  nugatory,  upon  any  other  sup- 
position than  that  of  a  story,  either  wholly  invented 
by  the  Poet,  or,  of  which,  at  least,  he  owes  only 
some  slight  hint  to   fact,  and  real   life.     In  tliis 
case,  and  in  this  only,  it  is,  that  the  subject  first 
presents  itself  to  the  Poet's  mind  in  a  general  and 
abstracted   view,  which   he    afterwards    circum- 
stantiates by  time,  place,  and  names,  and  fills  up 
by  the  detail  of  particular  episodes  and  scenes. 

That  this  is  the  meaning,  will  appear,  I  think, 
still  more  clearly  fi-om  the  9th  chapter,  with  which 
tliis  passage  should  be  compared.     What  is  here 

,  said 


cap.  XV i.  and,  nfjroiiyjLeva  ovofjutra,  cap.  ix.  "  names  invented 
'♦  by  the  Poet." 


^  And,  see  his  note,  N**  3,  upon  chap,  xvi.— It  is  the 
explanation  of  Beni : — "  jam  nomina  imponi  jubet,  noa 
*'  tam  ilia  fingendo,  <^uani  reddendo^* 

P4 


ar6  ]*    0    T    E    1 

said  of  the  method  to  be    puriiu^d  by  Trdgid 
Poets,  answers  exactly  to  what  id  there  said  of  the 

Coinic :  trvrrKravrs^  yot^  rot  fAvioy  hot,  rwy  fixoro^v, 
•OTTXl  TA  TTXONTA 'ONOM ATA  EniTieEASI;— 
with  this  difference,  indeed,  that  the  Comic  writer 
may  give  whatever  names  he  pleases ;  while  the 
Tragic  generally  adopts  historical  names,  even 
when  his  subject  is  feigned.  Yet  Aristotle,  there, 
riot  only  allows  that  Tragedy,  as  well  as  Comedy, 
may  be  all  invention,  both  plot  and  names,  but 
even  says,  that  it  would  be  "  ridiculous'  to  think 
otherwise  :  yiXom  rar^  ^nniu.  And  he  immediately 
adds,  that  it  is  the  invention  or  making  of  his 
fable,  (not  of  his  verse  only,)  that  truly  constitutes 
the  Poet  \ 

NOTE    143. 

P-  155-  That  the  Episodes  belong  pro- 
perly TO  THE  subject . 

See  NOTE  37  *. — Here  are  two  instances  given 
by  Aristotle  of  what  he  means  by  iVno-ot^ta  in  dra- 
matic Poetry.  They  confirm,  I  think,  what  was 
said  in  that  note.  That  Orestes  should  be  taken, 
by  some  means  or  other,  and  should,  by  some 
means  or  other,  be  saved,  were  essential  parts  of 
the  Poet's  fable.  These  were  not  episodes,  in 
Aristotle's  view ;  for  he  expressly  includes  them 
both  in  that  general  sketch  of  the  story,  which  is 
previous  to  the  intertexture  of  the  episodes :— lAfloji^ 


!  Cap.  ix.— Transl.  Part  II.  Sect,  6.    ♦  In  vol*  i. 


NOTES.  217 

i$  xai  AH<E)0EIi:  —  and,  Utim^iv  Ji  h*  SHTHPIA. 
The  episodes  are  the  circumstances  by  which  the 
Poet  chose  to  effect  this  capture,  and  this  escape ; 
i.  e.  the  madness  of  Orestes,  and  the  ablution  of 
the  statue ;  or  rather,  thgse  facts  drawn  out  into 
some  particularity  of  descriptive  narration,  so  as 
to  form  distinct,  though  subordinate,  parts  of  the 
action ;  for  this,  perhaps,  made  a  part  of  Aris^ 
totle's  idea  of  tTrtttroitov, — And  the  examples  here 
given  seem  to  confiim  this.  See  the  Iphig.  in 
Tauris,  v.  260,  to  340. — v.  1153,  &c. — And, 
particularly,  the  narration  of  the  ayytX®*, 
v.  1327,  &c. 

From  the  very  observation,  that  these  episodes 
should  be  properly  related  to  the  subject  *,  and  from 
what  he  adds  of  the  difference  of  dramatic  and 
epic  episodes  in  ^omt  oi  length,  it  clearly  appears, 
that,  as  I  observed  in  the  note  referred  to,  the  word 
is  not  applied  to  Tragedy  in  a  different  sen^e  from 
that  in  which  it  is  applied  to  the  Epic  Poem. 

note  144. 

P-  153-  But  in  the  Epic  they  are  the 
means  of  drawing  out  the  Poem  to  its 
proper  length. 

*H  S*  iTTOiroiiot  Tare*?  ^yiy.Muron. — Compare  cap. 
xxiv.      E^"    ^^   Tff^Q<:   TO    £W£XT£*H(r6a*,  x.T.  aA. — tO, 

*  They  could  not  therefore  be  considered  by  Aristotle 
as  ''  parties  necessaires  de  Taction,"  according  to  Le  Bossu's 
de6oitiony  lib.  ii.  ch.  6* 


/ 


^"fi 


iiS 


NOTES. 


NOTES. 


8If 


NOTE    145. 

P'    '53-      The    general    story    of   the 
Odyssey— LIES  ix  a  small  compass. 

Mix^(^,  (instead  of  f^c?x^(^,)  has  now  the  sup^ 
port  of  a  manuscript.  See,  ed.  Ox.  1780,  witlj 
the  learned  editor  of  which  I  perfectly  agree, 
Aoy^  is  plainly  used  here  in  the  same  sense  as 
before,  for  the  general  argument,  or  summary,  of 
tfie  Poem :  whereas,  if  we  read  /*ax^<^,  it  can 
mean  only  the  entire  story  at  full  length,  with  all 
its  episodes.  Farther ;  the  epitome  of  the  Odys^ 
sey  which  follows,  is  evidently  the  exemplification 
of  th^  preceding  assertion,  that  the  story  of  the 
Odyssey,  stripped  of  its  episodes,  is  very  short. 

Homer  himself  has  given  us  a  still  more  general 
ouUine  of  the  Poem  in  two  lines  and  a  half  ,•— 
cvvoi^iv  iD-«(ri,f  TUf  0^u(r(r«fl!f?,  as  the  scholiast  has  ob- 
served upon  it ; 

Oiyy,  X.OCKX  wo\>.oc  waQovr,  oXetruvr  awo  wav- 

rag  BTottoag, 
Ayvc^g-ov  vuvTBO-oriif,  Utnogea  evtavrcoj 
OncotS*  IXiva-Ea-Qoct. qj^  g   ^^. 

where,  oAio-avr'  awo  isrixvTxq  Iratpiif,  is  equivalent 
to  Aristotle  s  i^oyn  oVt^. 


NOTE    146. 

P-  154"     Persecuted  by  Neptune  -  -  -. 

nAPA^TAATTOMENOT    iwo     t«    no<rft^cuy®».— • 

The  same  idea  is  thus  exppessed  by  Virgil : 

-  -  -  nee  Teucris  addita  Juno 
Usquam  aberit.  jEn.  vi.  90. 

— upon  which  passage  the  reader  will  find  an  ex- 
cellent and  useful  note  in  the  best  of  all  editions 
of  this  Poet,  that  of  Heyne. 

Horace  comes  still  nearer  to  the  word  vaj a^v* 

Incontinentis  nee  Tityi  jecur 
Relinquit  ales,  nequitiae  additus 

CUSTOS.     *  Lib.  111.  Ode  vf. 

NOTE    147. 

P.  154.     And  making  himself  known  to 

SOME  of  his  family . 

AifOLyyta^nroi^  riv»^,   airoK;  Izriii^iv^  -  -  -.      This 

is  all  very  strange,  and,  probably,  very  corrupt ; 
as  may  appear,  merely  from  the  awkward  and 
cacophonous  repetition  of  the  pronoun— ATTOr 
dpiKvurai  -   -    -  ATTOir    iViiifAEy^,    ATTOS  /ac» 

And  what  is,  dy»yvu^i(rot;  riyag  ? — Certainly,  not 
what  one  expects.  Ulysses,  we  know,  was  dis- 
covered  by  the  nurse,  and  discovered  himself  to 
Eumaeus,  and  the  herdsman,  and  to  Telemachus; 

but 


jl'l 


If! 


110  NOTE    «• 

but  I  do  not  recollect  that  he  discovers  any  one. 
Castelvetro  saw  this ;  and  he  says,  that  *^  oIkuujv  is 
"  to  be  understood ;  and  that  the  signification  of 
"  the  word  dvatyva^io-Kg  here  must  be  observed, 
"  which  is,  not  that  Ulysses  discaverxd  diuy  of  his 
"  friends,  but  that  he  inade  himself  knozvn  to 
"  them*.'"  But  we  have  no  authority,  tliat  I 
know  of,  for  this  use  of  ai/ayywj i^f*v  with  an  ac- 
cusative case.  Piccolomini,  too,  understands  this 
passage  as  Castelvetro  did—*'  datosi  h  coiioscerc 
*'  ad  akimir  And  the  Abb6  Batteux— ''  sefait 
"  reconnoitre^''  &c. 

But  what,  again,  is,  «Jtok  \TsAi\f.i),^  ? — Does 
«uTOij  refer  to  the  friends^  or  to  the  enemies^  of 
Ulysses  ? — Is  si!r»flf/x£i/(^,  deceiving^  imposing  on,  as 
it  is  rendered  by  Victorius,  and  others  after  him^ 
or,  as  others  understand  it,  attacking  ?  for  it  will 
bear  either. of  these  senses.  I  have  preferred  the 
latter  as  most  obvious,  and,  on  the  whole,  most  to 
the  purpose.  EzriTiSf/xfvo*  is  used  by  Aristotle  in 
this  sense,  Rhet,  II.  5.  It  generally,  I  believe, 
implies  an  attack  more  or  less  insidicuSy  such  as 
that  of  Ulysses  upon  the  suitors.  Tlie  scholiast 
upon  Homer,  Od.  T.  156,  observes,  that  a  day  of 
festivity  was  made  choice  of,  as  furnishing  a  fa- 
vourable  opportunity  of    attacking  the   suitors  : 

ixr  TO  EniTieEseAi  tots  mnhsthpsi. 


•  p.  382. 


NOTES, 


m 


NOTE    148. 

p.  154.  I  CALL  COMPLICATION,  ALL  THAT 
15  BETWEEN  THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  PIECE, 
AND    THE    LAST    PART,  &C. 

Aristotle  is  here,  as  usual,  very  short  and  dry 
in  the  information  he  bestows  upon  us  concernin<y 
this  ^£<rK  and  \v(n^,  I  wish  he  had  siven  us  a  de- 
finitiou  of  their  meanings,  \  ^stead  of  a  mere  desig- 
nation of  their  places.  One  would  suspect,  on  the 
first  view,  from  the  mention  of  a  change  «c 
tirxiy^iixy  only,  (in  which  reading  all  the  MSS, 
I  tl)ink,  agree,)  from  his  instance^  (if  it  be  the 
same  Tragedy  as  he  before  cited,  cap,  xi.)  and 
from  the  common  acceptation  of  the  word  Xu^-ic 
itself,  that  he  was  sjDeaking  only  of  those  Tragedies 
in  which  the  principal  characters  are  extricated 
from  the  difficulties  they  were  involved  in,  and  the 
end  is  happy.  And,  indeed,  the  way  in  which 
X^  Bossu,  and  others  after  him,  explain  this  nceud 
e^ud  denouement^  leads  naturally  to  tliis  idea,  and 
seems  hardly  consistent  with  their  allowing,  as 
they  do,  that  the  denouement  may  be  either  cala^ 
mitous  or  prosperous*.  For  they  explain  tb« 
mead,  or  <^£(rif,  by  "  obstacles  h  vaincre^''  — 
"  efforts  contraires  —  i.  e.  aux  efforts  du  heros 
**  pour  retention  deson  dessein '." — "  Les  obstacles 
"  present^s  s  app^llent  noeuds,  et  la  maniere  dont 


u 


on 


WW  9*  P  ■■  l>     »"■ 


•  Le  Bossu,  Traire  du  Poeme,  Ep.  II.  16. 

*  Batteux*s  note  on  this  passage.     '  Lg  Bossu,  II.  13. 


.■*j 


1^' 


¥\ 


Ml 


M 


t2t  NOTES. 

"  on  ks  force,  se  nomme,  denomment^r — This 
will  do  very  well  for  iEneas,  or  Ulysses,  ^^ut 
when  Oedipus  finds  himself  guilty  of  parricide 
and  incest,  and,  from  a  state  of  regal  dignity  aricl 
happiness,  becomes  a  wretched,  blind,  and  banished 
vagabond — this  is  but  a  strange  way  of  surmount- 
ing obstacles. 

The  truth  is,  that  the  obstacles  of  the  ^ktk,  or 
the  knot,  are  those  which  are  presented  to  the 
mind  of  the  spectator ;  the  difficulty  overcome  is 
that  of  seei7ig  how  the  piece  will  terminate.  And 
thus,  indeed,  the  Abb^  Batteux  more  accurately 
expresses  himself  elsewhere  : — "  Le  nceud  dans  le 
Cinna  est,  de  sfoooir  si  Cinna  tuera  Auguste^'  &c  **. 
The  Auo-ic  is,  to  tlie  spectator,  the  solution  of  the 
problem,  "  How  will  all  this  end  ?"  And  we  may 
add,  the  more  difficult  the  problem,  the  greater  the 
pleasure  of  the  solution. 

It  may  be  objected,  that  this  is  applicable  only 
to  those  Tragedies,  the  subjects  of  which  are  totally 
unknown  to  the  spectator ;  and  it  may  be  asked, 
"  W4iere  is  the  problem  to  be  solved,  in  those 
"  dramas,  which  we  have  repeatedly  seen  and 
"  read,  and  of  which  we  are  perfectly  acquainted 
.         '•  with 

^  Batteux,  Principes  de  la  Lit.  tome  ii.  p.  226. 

•  Princip.  dc  la  Lit.  tome  iii.  p.  51.  And  so,  too, 
Le  Bossu,  where  he  says  of  the  nceud^  that  it  lasts 
*'  autant  de  temps  que  V esprit  du  hcteur  est  suspendu  sur 
•*  revenement  dc  ces  efforts  coutraires,"  &c.  ch,  xiik 
Dacier,  too,  talks  in  the  same  equivocal  language.  Sec 
his  notes,  i,  2^  and  3, 


a 


4i 


ii 


il 


ki 


ii 


it 


NOTE    S;  ^23 

"  with  the  catastrophe,  and  every  incident  that 
*'  leads  to  it  ?  **  To  this  I  can  only  answer,  thai 
it  is  a  fact,  and  certainly  a  curious  fact,  that  it 
makes  little  difference,  or  none  at  all,  in  the  sym- 
pathetic interest  which  a  spectator  feels  during  the 
course  of  the  action.  w4iether  he  knows,  or  does 
not  know,  beforehand,  how  the  piece  will  end. 
Quelque  prevenu  que  Ton  soit  de  la  maniere 
dorit  tout  va  se  r6soudre>  la  marche  de  ruction 
en  Scarte  la  reminiscence :  V impression  de  cc  que 
Con  wit  empeche  de  rtflkhir  h  ce  que  Von  sfait ; 
et  c  est  par  ce  prestige  que  les  spectateurs  qui 
se  laissent  toucher,  pleurent  vingt  fois  au  mSme 
spectacle."— [Marmontel,  Poet.  Franc/u.  220.] 
The  term  Auo-k,  therefore,  is  as  applicable  to  the 
calamitous  catastrophe  of  the  Oedipus,  as  to  the 
satisfactory  conclusion  of  the  Iphigenia  in  Tauris. 
For  Aristotle  expressly  gives  these  parts,  as  parts 
of  ecery  Tragedy,     Er»  $1   HASHS  rfetyu>hx;,  t# 

NOTE    149. 

P-  154-  The  Lynceus  of  Theodectes  — . 

Castelvetro  has  guessed,  with  some  ingenuity, 
the  subject  and  plot  of  this  Tragedy,  from  Hyginus, 
Fab.  45.  See  Goulston's  supplemental  version, 
which  is  taken  from  him.  It  seems,  however,  very 
improbable,  that  a  Tragedy  should  be  denominated 
from  a  person  who  had  no  other  share  in  tlie. 
nction,  than  that  it  passed  under  his  roof 

Dacier 


144  NOTE    S. 

Dacier  understands  this  to  be  the  Lynccun 
mentioned  before,  cap.  xi.  All  I  see  is,  that  his 
application  of  the  word,  ir«i^iov,  to  Li/na'us  the 
husband  oi  Hyperaiiiestra,  cannot  be  admitted. 
The  diminutive  iraK^i^v,  is,  I  believe,  never  used 
but  to  signify  a  child.  In  this  respect,  certainly, 
Castehetro's  conjecture  has  greatly  the  advantage; 
as  it  has,  also,  in  the  explanation  of  olngLwwi  t« 
JflwaTif,  which,  in  Dacier,  is  terribly  forced.  Sec 
his  version. 

NOTE   150. 

^'^55-  There  are  four  kinjds  of  Trat 
gedt,  deducibx.e  from  $q  many  paut^ 
which  have  been   mentioned, 

It  is  incumbent  on  a  commentator  to  state,  as 
clearly  as  he  can,  the  difficulties  of  his  author, 
whether  he  be  able  to  remove  them,  or  not.  Tb» 
has  not  been  done  with  respect  to  this  passage,  in 
any  of  the  comments  that  I  have  seen. 

Aristotle    says,   T^ayw<r»a?    h    tlh    i\(n    Ttcnra^x' 

rofTXMra,  TAP  xa*  recjAt^n  tAtp^Sn.  '*  There  are  four 
species  of  Tragedy  ;  for  so  many  also  are  tlie 
parts  which  have  been  mentioned."  This  is 
saying,  as  expressly  as  words  can  say  it,  that  t\\Q 
four  different  species  of  Tragedy  correspond  to, 
and,  of  course,  arise  from,  four  diftbrent  parls 
already  meuticMied.  Now  what  are  those  part3? 
Four  parts  of  guantitj/  have  indeed  been  men- 
tioned ;  (cap.  xii.)  but  these  are  quite  out  of  the 
?  question. 


<( 


€i 


NOTES.  225 

question.  If  we  have  recourse  to  what  are  called 
the  parts  of  quality  \  these  are  si:c ;  and  if,  with 
Dacier,  we  reduce  them  to/our,  by  throwing  out 
the  decoration  and  the  music^  the  four  that  remain, 
i.  e.  fable,  manners,  sentiments,  and  diction,  will 
furnish  out,  among  them,  only  one  of  the  species  of 
Tragedy  enumerated— that  which  is  denominated 
iJOiHu.  These,  then,  cannot  be  the  four  parts 
pointed  at  as  the  foundation  of  the  four  species. 
There  remain  only  the  parts  which  Aristotle  calls 
fAff  »i  MT0or  :  the  parts,  not  of  Tragedy,  but  of 
07W  of  the  essential  parts  of  Tragedy— the  Fable. 
These  he  enumerated  in  the  1  ith  chapter  ^^  and 
to  these,  the  commentators,  in  general,  are  ac^reed 
in  understanding  Aristotle  to  allude. 

But  the  difficulty  here  is,  that  he  refers  to  four 

parts  mentioned,   and  here   are  only  three i.  e. 

^ff  <7rm<a,  dvxyyta^iinq,  (which  he  expressly  calls  $\jo 
l^Ad  ixt^r^,)  and,  thirdly,  Tra^^r  TPITON  $t, 
^afli^. — There  is  no  njention  of  HJ^*,  to  furnish 
his  third  species,  the  moral  Tragedy ;  nor,  indeed, 
was  it,  by  any  means,  to  be  expected  there, 
where  he  is  professedly  enumerating  the  parts  of 
the  Fable.  n$cU,  in  the  sense  in  which  the 
word  is  there  used  \  may,  unquestionably,    be 

considered 

•  Cap.  vi.  Transl.  Part  II.  Sect.  2. 

^  Transl.  Part  II.  Sect.  9,  at  the  end. 

*  lia^^y  in  its  usual  sense,  o^  passion,  is  a  part,  not  of 
the  ^^,   but  of  the  ^laxoia.  (See  cap.  xix.  Transl. 

VOL.  II.  Q  p^^^ 


Mi 


116  NOTES. 

considered  as  parts  of  the  Fabk ;  iin,  or  manners, 
cannot. 

The  Abbe  Batteux  thinks  the  ethic  species  n 
tacitly  impHed,  as  the  opposite,  or  negative,  of  the 
pathetic.  The  three  parts  of  the  fable,  jn^iTrfrux, 
dvotyvupicig^  x«9^,  give,  directly^  only  two  species 
of  Tragedy ;  the  two  first  constituting,  (one,  or 
both  of  them,)  the  complicated,  (frifrXtyixEynvj)  and 
the  third,  the  pathetic,  or  disastrous,  Tragedy.  The 
two  other  species  are  only  the  negatives  of  these. 
If  the  fable  is  without  revolution  or  discovery  \ 
the  Tragedy  is  simple,  as  opposed  to  complicated; 
if,  without  TTxifi,  or  disasters,  it  is  iiSixn,  as  opposed 
to  7ra9>jT*x«. — Such  is  the  explanation  of  this  inge- 
nious writer  * ;  which  seems  to  be  much  favoured 
by  the  manner  in  which  these  species  are  arranged 
afterwards,  when  applied  to  Epic  Poetry  in 
cap.  xxiv. ;  where  we  have— if  yx^  'AHAHN  if 
HEnAErMENHN,— ij  H0IKHN  i  RAeHTIKHN,  hi 
tlvxr,  and,  also,  by  the  frequent  opposition  of  irae©* 
and  rA^y  vecinTixoy  and  ijSixov,  in  anticnt  writers  ^ — 

It 


Part  II.  Sect.  22.)  But,  in  the  sense  defined  cap,  xi. 
(Transl.  Part  II.  Sect.  9.)  11  is  an  action— UFASil 
^Sa^Tifcn,  &c.  and,  therefore,  part  of  the  plot,  or  (ruv^gaii 
n^ocYfjiarcav,  as  much  as  the  revolution,  and  discovery. 

-  -  -    ANET  TTi^tTTtrna;  ii  jtvayva^ia-fxH,    as    he   say'S 
above,  in  defining  the  simple  fable.     Cup.  x. 

*  See  his  note ;  and  his  Principes  de  la  Lit.  tome  iii.  p,  S4. 
^  See,   for   instance,   Rhet,  III.    17.  Quintil.  VI.  a. 
P*  29^>  V^i  ^^*  ^'^'»  ^^- — I  am  aware,  indeed,  that  in 

thi* 


NOTE     S.  22y 

It  may,  indeed,  be  objected,  that  this  cannot  be 
reconciled  to  Aristotle's  words — Too-aura  yx^  xat 
T«  ^ffu  'EAEX0H;  which  seem  to  refer  clearly  to 
four  parts  that  had  been  all  expressly  mentioned. 
But,  if  we  should  suppose  Aristotle  here  to  con- 
sider that  as  said,  which  was  only  implied,  and  as 
explained,   which   was   only  hinted,   we  should, 
perhaps,  take  no  liberty  that  is  not  warranted  by 
the  magisterial  and  elliptic  brevity  of  his  general 
«_]%  ^^y'^'  ^"^  ^^^"  l^y  similar  instances  in  his  writings  ^ 
^ut  even  this  will  not  entirely  remove  the  difficulty, 
while,  by  the  parts   alluded    to,  we  understand 
Aristotle  to  mean  only  the  juf^n  ^uSa  of  the  itth 
chapter :  because  iiS^,  as  I  before  observed,  could 
be  neither  mentioned,  nor  implied,  as  a  part  of 
the  fable.     Perhaps,  therefore,  he  meant  to  use 
the  word  ^rju  in  a  general  sense,  as   he  clearly 
does  use  it,   cap.  xxiv.  xpti  ra,  MEPH,  ll^oo  fxiX.  xa« 

i^iuq,  ravTx'  xon  TAP  Trtpiyrsruuv  Sii,  x.r.otX. — where 

the  xai  TAP  shews,  that  the  parts  he  had  just 

mentioned 

this  opposition,  ttoQ^  is  not  taken  in  th?  dramatic  sense, 
of  blood-shed,  disasters,  &c.  but  in  the  usual  sense  of 
passion.  But  as  this  sense  is,  in  fact,  involved  in  the  for* 
mer,  (for  we  can  scarce  conceive  a  disastrous,  or,  as  we 
call  it,  a  deep,  Tragedy,  that  is  not  also  highly  pat/ietic,  or 
passionate,)  this  is  not,  perhaps,  any  material  objection. 

*  His  references  are  frequendy  obscure,  or  ambiguous. 
So,  the  xaQxTTs^  eI^m,  cap.  xi.  see  note  83.  And  the, 
ua-TTs^  fl^vrai,  cap.xv,  see  note  1 10. — An  embarrassment 
of  enumeration  somewhat  similar  to  that  of  this  passage 
has  occurred  in  cap.  xiv.     See  note  105. 

Q  2 


f 


ai8  Tf    O;  T    E    S. 

mentioned  included  both  the  six  constituent  parts 
of  Tragedy,  and  the  ikuQo^  parts  of  the  fable  which 
he  enumerates.  If  we  understand  fAi^n  in  this 
way,  the  meaning  will  only  be,  that  so  many  dif- 
ferent parts,  (of  one  kind  or  other,)  have  been 
mentioned  (Ia^x®*!,)  from  which  these  species  may 
Be  deduced :  these  are,  the  three  (xi^n  /xu9a,  which 
burnish  the  complicated^  tiie  simple^  and  the  pathetic^ 
species ;  and  the  second  of  the  essential  parts  of 
Tragedy,  rS©^,  which,  though  indeed  it  be  a  part 
oi  every  Tragedy,  admits,  according  to  Aristotle's 
own  account,  of  more  or  less  ^,  and,  when  predo- 
minant, may  be  characteristic  of  another  species, 
the  ethic,  or  moral  Tragedy,  naturally  enough  op- 
posed to  the  pathetic. 

I,  confess  I  see  no  other  possible  consistent 
sense  that  can  be  given  to  this  passage,  as  we 
now  read  it :  {or  four  parts  are  here  mentioned  ; 
Siud  four  parts  cannot  be  made  out,  if  we  confine 
ourselves  to  the  fxt^n  MY80T  in  cap,  xi. 

Dacier  seems  to  have  perceived  this ;  and  his 
explanation  agrees  so  far  with  mine,  that  he,  also, 
makes  "  la  peripetie,  la  reconnoisance,  la  passion, 
"  et  ks  moeurs^'  the  four  parts  that  produce  the 
four  sorts  of  Tragedy.  But  when,  in  order  to 
reduce  the  (^evcn  parts,  (i.  e.  fable,  manners,  dic- 
tion, sentiments,  discovery,  revolution,  disasters,) 
to  \\\e  four  which  he  wants,  he  rejects  tlnee, 
i.  e.  fable^i  diction,  and  sentiments,   because  they 


NOTE    S.  22^ 

are  common  to  all  Tragedy,  he  makes  a  distinction 
for  which  there  seems  to  be  no  foundation ;  the 
manmrs  being  equally  included  by  Aristotle  among 
those  parts  which  are  expressly  IIASHX  rpaywc^jaf 
^ff»j'.  Cut,  though  all  these  parts  necessarily 
belong,  in  some  degree  or  other,  to  every  Trai^edy, 
any  one  of  them  may  be  so  predominant,  as  to 
characterize  a  Tragedy,  and  give  it,  if  we  please, 
a  specific  denomination.  Thus*  there  may  be,  and 
there  is,  such  a  species  as  the  sentimental  Trajredy, 
of  which,  in  the  critic  s  language,  to  hxay  u*  A^a- 
voia  : — another,  of  which  the  language  may  be  the 
most  striking  character — Ji?  to  oXqv  ?I  Af  Jk  \ ;  and 
he  himself  speaks  of  a  sort  of  Tragedy  that  might 
very  well  be  denominated,  v  OTTTixn  \  of  which 
examples  are  not  wanting  on  the  modern  stage. 
The  Italian  opera  is  a  Tragedy,  ^V  to  oAov  Vtv  « 
MfXoTToua. — But  Aristotle's  business  was  not  to 
enumerate  all  the  different  species  which  want  of 
taste  or  judgment  might  produce,  but  those  only 
which  were  considered  as  legitimate,  and  such  as 
sound  criticism  would  approve.  Hence,  he  has 
recourse,   for  the  formation  of  the  four  regular 

and 


are 


Cap.  vi. — avtu  h  hOotv  yzvoiT  av  (sc.  T^ayx^ta)  ^c. 


^  Cap.  vi. 

^  Of  the  first,  Air.  Harris  gives  Measure  for  Measure 
as  an  instance;  of  the  last,  Cato. — PhiloL  Iriq,  p.  i6i. — 
But  Cato  seems  rather  a  compound  of  the  two  species. 
Dr.  Johnson,  in  his  life  of  Addison,  ha§  more  justly  cha- 
racterized it  by — "^st  sentiments  in  elegant  language,^* 

^  See  cap,  xiv,  Transl.  Part  11.  Sect.  13, 

Q  3  - 


^i\ 


230  NOTES. 

and  authorised  species,  only  to  the  two  Jirst  and 
most  important  of  the  six  constituent  parts  of 
Tragedy— the  fable,  and  the  manners. 

But  after  all,  when  we  have  made  the  best  we 
can  of  the  text  in  this  passage,  we  must  allow, 
I  believe,  that  it  is  more  for  the  credit  of  Aristotle 
to  suppose  it  faulty.     And  that  it  is  so,  I  am  the 
rather  inclined  to  think,  as  one  difficulty  still  re- 
mains.    The  expression — "  there  are  four  sorts 
"  of  Tragedy ;    for  ^o  many  parts  have  been 
"  mentioned"  —  seems    clearly    to    imply,    not 
merely,   that  those  four  softs  are  deducible,   in 
some  way  or  other,  from  those  parts,  but,  as  I  at 
first  observed,   that  they,   respectively,  arise  from 
those  parts,  each  'of  which  produces  its  corres- 
pondent species  of  Tragedy.     But  this,  as  we  have 
seen,  is  by  no  means  the  case.     Of  the  four  parts, 
only  ^aO®*,  and  tjS®*,  produce  directly  their  cor- 
respondent species,  tlie  ^«8t,T»xii,  and  the  i?9ixn. 
The  other  two  parts,  ^£^*ir£Ti»a,   and  avayvw^ i<rif, 
denominate  one  species  from  their  presence,  (the 
vnrXiy^^iyn,)  and  another,  (the  iirXn^  from  their 
absence. 

NOTE  151. 

P.  155.     Another,  the  moral . 

H9»xjj.— "  Videant  studiosi  hujus  libri,  an  intel- 
"  ligi  debeant,  et  tanquam  diro  xoiva  repeti,  et  hie 
^'  et  infra,  verba  ilia  quae  in  explicatione  fabnl® 
"  implexce  posuit ;  mtelligo,  inquam,  hrec— »jV  to 


<c 


'€4 


U 


U 


U 


u 


6\ou 


NOTES.        •  231 

«A«v  Ifip :  et  quod  pneterea  utroque  loco  con- 
venit,  inde  suniptum,  [i.  e.  wa60*  —  r6(^]  ut, 
quemadmodum  inquit  in  describend^  ilia  per- 

*^  plexA — r\f  TO  oAok  ifi  TTi^ivireta  xoci  aVayvw^io**?, — • 

ita,  in  patheticd, — n'?   to   Ikov  eV*  irxU;  et  in 
morata,  »iV  to  tAov  i^iy  tIS?]/'     So  Yictorius ;  and 
the  observation  seems  just  and  important. 

By  ijfiixrj,  I  cannot  think,  that  the  mere  absence 
of  TraSi)  is  meant,  as  M.  Batteux  supposes*,  or,  as 
Dacier  and  others  take  it,  the  mere  moral-  ten- 
dency of  the  example.  I  understand  the  T(xyx^i» 
Tiiixn  to  be,  in  tlie  most  obvious  and  usual  sense 
of  the  word,  that  kind  of  Trasjedv,  nV  to  oXov  kiv 
^6n — of  which  the  manners  are  the  predominant 
part ;  which  seems  sufficiently  to  imply  the  ab- 
seiKe  of  that  violent  perturbation,  deep  distress, 
and  terrible  catastrophe,  which  distinguish  the 
pathetic  species.  This  obvious  sense  of  iJJixu  is 
confirmed  by  Aristotle'sexemplification  in  cap,  xxiv. 
For  there,  he  plainly  opposes  it  to  the  TrainTtKov  of 
the  Iliad,  and  applies  it  to  the  Odyssey;  a  poem 
eminently  characterized  as  a  picture  of  life  and 
manners^.  The  word  is  also  used,  evidently,  in 
the  same  sense  in  the  Rhetoric;  where  the  two 
species  of  the   drama,   riSixoi^,   and  TnxinTixop,  are 

mentioned, 

*  "  La  fable  morale,  opposee  a  la  Pathetique,  doit  are 
**  celle  QU  il  rC  y  a  point  de  sang  repandu ;  tejles  sont  le 
*^  Cinna  de  Corncille,  et  la  Berenice  de  Racine."— -Pr;Vi- 
£ipes  de  ia  Lit,  iii,  p.  85. 

;*  See  Longinus,  Sect,  9,  ad  finem. 

Q  4  ^ 


232  •       NOTES. 

mentioned,  as  being,  each  of  them,  accommodated 
to  action,  and  preferred,  on  that  account,  by  the 
players,  as  peculiarly  favourable  to  the  display 
of  their  mimetic  powers  ^  Now  this  would  not 
be  the  case,  if  by  >J9*x7j  nothing  more  than  a  moral 
lesson  and  a  virtuous  example  were  intended.  Yet 
this  idea  is  by  no  means  excluded  by  the  otlier; 
and  Victorius  seems  to  have  rightly  adjusted  this 
matter.  "  Animadvertendum  autem  Tragoediam 
"  illam  vocari  rmratam,  quae  mn  solum  accurath 
*'  mores  exprimit,  sed  eos  etiajti  inducit  probos; 
"  quod  ipse  significavit  supr^,  ubi  de  moribus 
''  disseruit;  primum  enim  pr£ecepit  ut  ;^^rr«  >;9ti 
"  fingerentur." 

If  it  be  objected,  that,  the  delineation  of  nmn- 
ners  being  the  peculiar  province  of  Comedi/,  this 
account  of  the  T^xyuha,  liiixn  confounds  the  limits " 
of  these  two  opposite  species  of  the  drama;  we 
may  answer,  that  the  moral,  or  rather  niamiered 
Tragedy,  (for  we  seem  to  want  a  word  here,) 
though  allowed  by  Aristotle,  was  certainly  not  that 
which  he  himself  considered  as  the  best,  or  the 
most  Tragic':  yet,  that  even  this  was  sufficiently 
distinguished  from  Comedy  by  the  kind  of  manners 
which  it  imitated.  They  were  to  be,  if  possible, 
. '_ good^ 

*=  —  ayuyiUMn  ^e,  fsc.  Af|.j— oratorical  dfction]  ;,  lirO' 
x^mKcorarr,'  raimjg  h  ho  £i3»,-  h  fjnv  ya^,  HGIKH,  Uf, 
IIAQHTIKH.  m  km  6i  vTrox^nai  toc  TOIATTA  TX2N 
APAMATXIN  UHii(ri,  km  hi  Tromai  jug  TOiHTHg,  [sc.  ^tot 
ft^nag.]  Met,  III,  12. 

t  See  cap,  xiii.  Trans/.  Part  II.  Sect.  12. 


NOTES.  23J 

good,  (xs^foi,) — at  all  events  they  were  to  be,  on 
the  whole,  serious — cTni^onx :  whereas  the  object 
of  Comedy,  with  respect  to  manners,  as  to  every 
thing  else,  w^as  the  ridiculous.  We  must  remem-» 
ber  too,  that,  as  I  have  before  observed,  the  two 
dramas  were  by  no  means,  in  Aristotle's  time,  so 
rigorously  separated  as  they  now  are.  There 
were,  then,  but  two  dramatic  muses,  the  muse  of 
Tragedy,  and  the  muse  of  Farce.  Yet  there  is 
something  between  a  flood  of  tears  and  a  broad 
laugh;  and  as  Farce  obstinately  refused  to  put 
any  degree  of  restraint  upon  her  muscles,  Tragedy^ 
who,  as  we  have  seen,  was  so  accommodating,  as 
even,  occasionally,  to  approach  to  the  very  lauorh 
of  Farce,  frequently  condescended  to  dry  her 
tears,  and  to  put  on,  without  scruple,  the  inter- 
mediate ^/72i/e,  which  Comedy  should  have  supplied. 

NOTE  152. 
P.  155.  And,  fourthly,  the  simple, 

SUCH    AS AND    ALL  THOSE  TRAGEDIES, 

THE  SCENE  OF  WHICH  IS  LAID  IN  THE  IN- 
FERNAL   REGIONS. 

To  $i  TiToc^TOV,    oioy,    am   ^o^m^i;,    xxt   fl^o^ufifuf, 

xat  oVa  £v  aVa — The  enumeration  of  these  species 
in  cap.  xxiv.  leaves  no  room  to  doubt  the  omission 
of  the  word  *AIIAOTN  here.  To  h  titx^tov, 
airXsv^   oiovj   &C. 

The  commentators  have  been  much  puzzled  to 
discover,  why  all  those  Tragedies,  that  have  for 

their 


234  NOTES. 

their  subject  t«  h  a^a,   should  be  of  the  si?jrple 
construction;  and  I  have,  indeed,  been  sometimes 
strongly  inclined  to  believe,   that  the  words,  xa* 
itra  ly  aVa,  were  out  of  their  place,  and  belonged 
to  the  ^eca;^ J  species ;  thus:  ij  ^t  nochrmn,  oio»^,  qi 
rt  AtocpTtgy  xa»  o*  Ifiovgf,  xstt  otrx  Iv  dh.      Why  such 
subjects  should  belong  to  the  (tisastrous  class,  no 
one   can   want  a  reason ;  -and   the  words  follow 
naturally,  and  pertinently,  in  this  view,  after  the 
instance  of  Ixion,     1  have  been  surprised  not  to 
find  so  obvious  a  conjecture  in  any  of  the  com- 
ments.     Piccolomini,   indeed,   glances   at  it: — 
*'  Non  s6  vedere,  perch^  piu  tosto  in  essempio 
\  delle  Tragedie  pathetiche,   che  delle  semplici, 
"  non  le  habbia  poste ;  havendo  riguardo  in  ci6 
"  alle  pimition,  e  stipplicii  deW  inferno"'  p.  255. 
And  it  is  very  singular,  that  Dacier's  note  (N**  10.) 
is  exactly  such,  as   if  he  had  himself  made  this 
conjecture;  of  which,  however,  he  says  nothing. 
But,  after  all,  it  is  obvious  enough,  as  Beni  has 
observed,  that,  in  these  infernal  Tragedies,  no 
Ti^iwsTsixiy   no  sudden  reverse  of  circumstances, 
could  well  have  place.     The  comment  of  that 
acute  Italian  upon  this  passage,  is  the  best  I  have 
seen,  and  will,  perhaps,  satisfy  the  reader,  that  no 
such  conjecture  is  wanted.—"  Clausula  ha}c  sit;— 
"*  ex  istiusmodi  fabulis  exemplum  duxisse  Aris- 
totelem   ad    illustrandam    simplicem    fabulam, 
"  qu6d  cum  illi  [sot  Tantalus, -Sisyphus,  &c.]  in 
eas  poenas  atque  tonncnta,  non  a  prosperiiate, 

"  quern- 


€1 


« 


41 


U 


i( 


CC 


« 


«< 


« 


s< 


<( 


<i 


NOTES.  iggm 

quemadmodum  Oedipus  et  alii  plerique,  devol- 
"  verentur,  sed   ab  initio  ad  finem   usque  illis 
j"  Jactarentur,  peripetia  aberat  quhn  kngissimt. 
^yjmb  ver6,  non  mod6  repent^  fortunes  commu- 
tatio  hand  fiebat,  quod  est  proprium  peripetiae^ 
verum   etiam  mutatio   in  deeursu  toto  Jiebat 
levissima  ac  proph  nulla;    ita  ut  ab  initio  ad 
finem   usque,   miria-  simplicitate  flueret  fabula* 
Ex  quo  fiebat,  ut  commodius  ex  aliis,  in  quibus 
repent^  vulnera,^cruciatus,  e,t  caedes  cortinge- 
bant,  patheticce  duceretur  exemplum,  quam  ex 
lis,  quibus  nullus  repente  cruciatus  infligebatur, 
et  tamen  simplicitas  de  qu^  dicebam  mirificfe 
apparebat." — Bend  Comment,  p.  3J2. 
As  to  the  reading  itself,  Iv  a7a,  it  seems  to  be 
sufficiently  confirmed  even  by  a  collation  of  blun- 
ders ;  for  the  MSS.  exhibit,  i¥  al^oi — h  ali — h  . 

Victorius  seems  to  doubt,  I  know  not  why, 
whether  there  existed  any  such  Tragedies.  The 
2to-u^0*  nfT^ojcuXtri?  of  iEschylus  must,  clearly, 
have  been  of  this  kind ;  and  probably  his  Yu%a- 
yuyoi.  His  Prometheus  may  be  conceived  to 
come  the  nearest  of  any  Greek  Tragedy  extant 
to  a  specimen  of  this  kind  of  drama. — Dacier  has 
very  properly  reminded  us  here  of  what  Aristotle 
had  said,  cap,  xiii.  of  the  old  Poets — that  tu^ 
Tup^ora?  ^ufla?  aTrn^i^fj^av — i.e.  they  took,  as  we 
say,  any  subject  that  came  iijf)perniost. 


Ml 


1«3i» 


NOTES. 


NOTE-  153.< 

P.  157.     But  in  the  Dr^ma,  the  effect 

OF    SUCH    A    PLAN     IS     FAR,    DIFFERENT     FROM 
WHAT    IS    EXPECTED. 

IIoAu  TTcx.^oe,  T»v  iiroXn^iv  dxo^otlvn  : — literally,  "  it 
"  tu7^7is  out  very  differently  frmn  what  was  ex- 
"  pected,  or  supposed,  by  the  Poet'' 

The  uTToXn^/K,  the  viejv,  and  expectation  of  the 
Poet,  when  he  crowds  so  matly  incidents  into  his 
piece,  is,  ^tlie  shall  make  it  interesting  and 
pleasing  by  its  variety."  But  th^  contrary  happens. 
The  necessity  of  not  exceeding  the  usual  length, 
and  time  of  representation,  reduces  the  proposed 
variety  to  a  confused  and  huddled  mass  of  inci- 
dents, not  long  .Aiough  dwelt  on,  or  sufficiently 
detailed,  to  be  either  interesting,  or  clear.     His 

Poem  will   be   xxTaTrsTrXsyfJt.iyov   Ttj  TroiXjXiot,  as   the 

critic  well  expresses  it  in  another  passage  that 
sh9uld  be  compared  with  this*.  Thus,  the  Poet, 
in  this  ill-judged  attempt,  is  disappointed  in  the 
same  manner  as  the  architect,  who  aims  at  a 
beautiful  variety  by  a  multitude  of  small  and 
crowded  ornaments,  which  spoil  the  general  effect, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  are  too  many,  and  too 
minute,  to  afford  pleasure  by  separate  inspection. 

And  thu3,  TToAu  ira^a  ti\v   UTroA^J/ik  diro^xiytt ;    or,  aS 

the  ingenious  author  of  the  Arwtysis  of  Beauty 

it  I 

has 

■  ■     -^-x    ■■  ■  I  I  ^,  II      .  Ill  11^  n  I  ■   _iM 

*  Cap,x\m,  Transl.  Fart  III,    Sect,  i,  ^'  perplexed  hy 
**  its  variety." 


NOTES.  231 

has  expressed  the  same  idea,  in  a  chapter  which 
affords  no  bad  illustration  of  this  passage  from 
a  sister  art,  "  variety,  xvhen  overdone,' is  a  check 
''  upon  itselj  ^" 

Such  appears  to  me  to  be  tlie  meaning  of  this 
passage,  which,  1  think,  has  not  been  fully  seea 
by  any  of  the  commentators. 

NOTE    154. 

P.  157.  As  Euripides,  but  not  ^Esckylus, 
H4S  done,  &c. 

This  passage  affords  a  good  specimen   of  the 

distressing  ambiguity  that  prevails  so  remarkably 

'  throughout 


^  Hogarth's  Anal,  of  Beauty,  cap.  viii.— a  work,  to 
which,  with  all  its  imperfections,  1  think  it  may  fairly  be 
said,  that  the  public  have  not  done  full  justice ;  perhaps, 
through  the  author's  own  fault,  who  did  it  mor^  than  justice 
himself,  by  his  pretensions.  When  Hogarth  attempted 
to  philosophize,  he  was  lost.  His  meaning  is  often 
obscured  by  awkward  expression,  and  sometimes  seems, 
pretty  plainly,  not  to  have  been  well  known  even  to  him- 
self, (See  particularly  his  chap,  on  Proportion.)  Yet  the 
book  abounds,  I  think,  with  sensible,  useful,  and,  at  the 
time  it  was  written,  I  believe,  uncommon^  observations. 
The  ideas  of  eminent  artists,  relative  to  their  own  arts, 
must  always  be,  more  or  less,  valuable  and  useful;  and 
they  ought  not  to  be  discouraged  from  communicating 
-^hose  ideas  to  the  public,  by  cri^^ism  too  severely  exer- 
cised upon  the  manner  in  which  they  do  it.  ^  few  ideas, 
even  roughly  thrown  out,  from  an  artist  of  genius,  will- 
oftcH'be  of  more  utility  to  the'  progress  of  the  art,  than 
whole  pages  of  fine  writing  and  feiined  speculation  from 
the  unpractised  amateur. 


•' 


Ml 


IgK  NOTES. 

throughout  this  work.  It  fairly  admits  of  two 
different  constructions,  and  two  different  senses  *. 

It  may  be    thus:    ©ero^    tts^o-iv   IX^H   oXnitt  Iwoifia-ocv  xott 

xai  fA7t  (cTTTifi  Aia-^uX^,)  n  UtnTmifriy — x.t.«A.  Or 
thus  ;  oToi  irf^triv  lAtg  oXriv  ETroiricav, — xai  utj  xxtoc 
lAi^og  (u<r7ri^  Eu^.  N.  ii  M.  [sC.  xara  fxi^^  iTrointTi,'] 
KXi  {Mfi  Jo-TTf^  Aitrx,^  [sC.  ©Any  i7roifi(rg7\)  >j  ixTrtTr.  x.r.aX.  " 

— ^In  the  first  of  these  ways,  the  censure  will  fall 
on  Euripides;  in  the  otlier,  on  iEschylus.  Vic- 
torius  contends  for  the  first,  but  his  reasons, 
though  plausible,  seem  not  decisive.  The  whole, 
as  he  observes,  turns  upon  this — whether  the  oua-Trtf 
refers  to  the  whole  sentence — oXnv  i7roin(rav  xa*  ^n 
xara  /Af^®*, — or,  only  to  the  words  immediately 
preceding,  i.e.  xara  jU£f©*.  On  the  whole,  the  - 
last  construction,  I  think,  offers  itself  most  natu- 
rally; and  it  seems  rather  favoured,  too,  by  the 
similar  application  of  /u»j  wV^?^,  to  the  Poet  cen- 
suredy  presently  after;  where,  speaking  of  the 
Chorus,    he   says   it    should    <rykaycow^£(rG«t,   UH 

'XISIIEP  Tra^'  Eu^iwJti,  ctAX'  'XIXEIEP   -ttol^oc  lo<poKXft. 

— But  this,  after  all,  is  one  of  those  passages, 
where  the  "  cequato  examine  hmces'^  are  so  nicely 
balanced,  that  a  commentator  might  continue  in 
suspence  for  ever,  if  the  necessity  of  going  on  did 
not  oblige  him  to  t^'n  the  scale  by  a  touch  of  hi^ 
own  hand.* 


*  Dacier's  interpretation  {note  19.)  1:  pass  over  as  per* 
fccdy  inadmissible.  This  forced  construction  he  borrow- 
ed from  Castelvetro,  p.  39B. 


NOTES. 


239 


NOTE    155. 

p.  157"S'     For,  in  revolutions,    and  in 

ACTIONS  OF  THE  SIMPLE  KIND,  THESE  PoETS 
SUCCEED  AVONDERFULLY  IN  WHAT  THEY  AIM 
AT;  AND  THAT  IS,  THE  UNION  OF  TRAGIC 
EFFECT    WITH    MORAL    TENDENCY,    &C, 

Those  annotators  who  make  the  words,  'Ev  h 
Ta»f  irt^nriruoLi^ — the  beginning  of  a  separate  pre- 
cept relative  to  the  use  of  the  xvmderful,  have  the 
natural  construction  of  the  text,  and  the  uniform 
reading  of  all  the  MSS.  against  them.     The  na- 
tural and  obvious  construction,  surely,  is,  £»  r^ry 
^ovoj-  h   AE    rai?  7r£^.— )t.T,aA.      And  this  is  also 
confirmed  by  the  mention  of  Agatho  again,  pre- 
sently afterwards.     All  the  MSS.  too,   it  seems, 
give  6«u/Aarto?,  which  can  never  be  forced  into  the 
sense  of  ''per  admirabik\''    The  alteration  pro- 
posed  by  Heinsius— (rTo;^a^erfli»,  and  ^^Xito^k— 
in  order  to  make  this  refer  exclusively  to  Agatho, 
seems  unnecessary.     XTo;)^a^o,.Tai  refers,  very  na- 
turally, to  Agatho  in  conjunction  with  the  otlitr 
Poetsjust  mentioned,  whose  mistake,  and  whose 
failure,  were  the  same. 

I   have  ventured  to  render  this  passage  in  a 
manner  somewhat  different  from  any  translator  or 

*  eommen- 


•  Yet  so  Mr.  Winstanley  seems  to  understand  it.  See 
his  note,  p.  294.  If  there  are  any  examples  of  the 
ave^b  ^aviitxrtii  so  used,  I  could  wish  he  had  produced 
them. 


^i\ 


240  NOTES. 

commentator  that  I  have  seen^  T^ayixov  ya,^ 
T8T0,  x«t  ^iAakS^&jTrow.  The  question  is,  to  what 
T3T0  refers?  The  commentators  are  divided.  It 
appears  to  me,  that  it  refers  to  the  purpose^  at 
which  these  Poets  are  said  to  have  aimed;  and 
the  THTo,  which  follows,  explains  the  r^a.yiy,oy  xa« 
qnXAy^^tfOiroy. — T«to  TAP — **  for  this  (i.  e.  which 
"  they  aim  at,)  is  both  Tragic  and  Moral."  The 
reader  will  see  how  exactly  w  hat  follows  suits  this 
sense;  and  how  this  passage  helps  to  confirm  the 
sense  given  to  the  word  (piAai/Q^ojTroy,  in  cap.  xiii. 
[See  NOTE  94.]  where,  Ixinyov  xa*  (po(^i^ov,  is 
plainly  equivalent  to  r^ocyixov  here.  The  difficulty 
was,  to  reconcile  these  two  effects.  Aristotle's 
expression,  a-rc^oc^ovTai  0ATMA2Tn2  —  *'  su)'- 
^^  prisingly  well" — implies  this  difficulty,  and, 
that  he  does  not  speak  of  the  practice  as  perfectly 
agreeable  to  his  own  theory  of  the  Tragic  drama. 
— In  the  subjects  here  instanced,  there  was  the 
^tAakO^wTToi/,  because  the  acTixia  and  Trowtijia  were 
punished :  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  r^ocyixov, 
though  not  amounting  to  what  the  critic  required, 
Tv^as  not  wanting,  because  there  was  the  unexpected 
reverse  of  fortune,  a  calamitous  event,  irafl»i,  &c% 
The  persons  suffering,  too,  were  distinguished  by 
eminent  wisdom  and  courage;  and  though  such 

characters 


^  The  best  comment  is  that  of  Beniiis,  p.  379. 

«  k  r^ayixov,  AIIAGES  yaf,  cap.  xiv.  *'  not  Tragic,  be- 
*<  cause  it  exhibits  no  disastrous  event,**  Transl.  Part  II. 
Sect.  14. 


NOTES.  141 

characters  are  not  what  Aristotle  recommends  as 
the  fittest  for  Tragic  purposes  \  yet,  by  the  sub- 
stitution of  admirable  and  splendid,  for  moral  and 
estimable,  qualities,  they  are  made  to  produce,  in 
some  degree,  a  similar  effect  upon  the  spectator. 

This  appears  to  me  to  be  the  sense  of  the  pas- 
sage ;  and  it  leads  me  strongly  to  suspect,  that, 
instead  of  h  tok  *AIIA0I2;  xf«y/A«<rt,  we  should 
read  —  h  tpk  AIIIAOI2  tt^.  How  easily  the 
mistake  might  happen,  is  obvious  to  the  eye.  My 
reasons  are  these:  1.  The  ^iAa>9^wTo^ — moral 
tendency— poetical  justice,  &c.  was  the  very  cha- 
racteristic of  the  double,  fable,  {hirXn  (rurao-^)  and 
the  very  reason,  probably,  why  the  Platonic  critics, 
as  well  as  the  good-natured  audiences,  preferred  it 
as  the  best  plan^  2,  The  instances  here  given 
seem  to  accord  exactly  with  this  idea.  Thev  are 
plainly  examples  of  the  JiirXfi  avraa-i^,  not  of  the 
simple  fable — i.e.  the  fable  zvitkout  revolution  or 
discovery.  The  expression,  r^ocytxov  yotg  t8to  xa» 
f »A«vSfwirov,  implies,  that  the  Tragic  ami  Moral 
were  aimed  at,  and  effected,  by  these  Poets,  .both 
in  the  wt^^wirnou,  and  in  the  other  actions  men- 
tioned, whatever  they  were — Iv  roig  vsfuw.  koci  Ip 
To»c w^ayij,»<n :  and,  consequently,  his  subse- 
quent examples  of  the  r^aytxov  x«i  p\ap6^u)wop 
must  equally  accord  with  both.  But,  if  we  read 
«Vxo»^,  this  will  not  be  the  case ;  for  those  exam- 
____^ pies 

*•  Sec  cap.  xiii.  0  t^aiu,  &c.  Transl.  Part  II.  Sect.  1 1. 

•  See  cap,  xiii,  Transl.  Part  II,  Sect.  12,  kstparag. 
VOL.  II.  R 


V' 


hi 


142  NOTES, 

pies  are  such  as  necessarily  imply  recolutionSy  and 
a  sudden  and  miCTpected  turn  of  events,  wliich 
suit  very  well  with  AIIIAOI2  7rf»yfAMi,  but  aie 
incompatible  with  aVAo»f ;  the  sifnple  fable  being 
defined  by  this  very  circumstance,  tliat  it  is  dvi^ 
▼i^iiriTf*ac,  &c.  (cap.  X.) 

r 

NOTE    156. 

P.  158.  Such  events,  as  Agatho  says,  &c. 

This  alludes  to  these  two  lines  of  Agatho: — 

Ta^  av  rig  uk^  ccoro  tut  uvai  Xsyot, 
BfiOTOttTi  iroXkoc  Tvy^ocvetv  hjc  uxotoc. 

Even  this,  it  may  be  said,  isprobabk, 
I'hat  many  things  improbable  should  happen. 
In  human  life. — 

See  Rhet,  II.  24.  p.  581,  ed.  Duval. — And 
Bayle's  Art.  Agathon,  note  [f],  who  mentions 
a  similar  maxim  of  St.  Bernard's:  "  Ordinatissi- 
n^um  est,  minus  interdum  ordinate  fieri."  "  II 
est  tout  a  fait  de  lordre,  que  de  tems  en  tems 
il  se  fasse  quelque  chose  contre  I'ordre." 
This  general,  and,  if  I  may  call  it  so,  possible 
fiort  oi  probability,  may  be  termed,  the  probability 
ofromame;  and  tliese  lines  of  Agatho  furnish  a 
good  apologetical  motto  for  the  novel  writer.  It 
might  be  prefixed,  perhaps,  without  impropriety, 
even  to  the  best  productions  of  the  kind — to  a 
Clarissa,  or  a  Cecilia,  Nothing  is  so  com- 
4  ,  monly 


<( 


*i 


li 


NOTES.  243 

tnonly  complained  of  in  such  works,  as  their 
iynprobabiUty ;  and  often,  no  doubt,  the  complaint 
is  well  founded:  often,  however,  the  criticism 
means  nothing  more,  than  that  the  events  are 
uncommon,  and  proves  nothing  more,  than  the 
want  of  fancy,  and  an  expended  vi^w  of  human 
life,  in  the  reader.  If  the  events  were  7iot  un- 
common, where  would  the  book  find  readers  ? 

"  Si  la  nature  ne  combinoit  jamais  des  evene- 
"  mens  d  une  maniere  extraordinaire,  tout  cc  que 
?Me  Poete  imagineroit  au-dela  de  la  simple  et 
froide  uniformity  des  choses  communes,  seroit 
incroyable.  Mais  il  n'en  est  pas  ainsi.  Que 
"  fait  done  le  Poete?— Ou  il  s'empare  de  ces 
•**  combinaisons  extraordinaires,  ou  il  en  imagine 
de  semblables.  Mais  au  lieu  que  la  liaison  des 
^v^nemens  nous  6chappe  souvent  dans  la  natqre, 
et  que,  faute  de  connoitre  Tensemble  des  choses, 
nous  ne  voyons  qu  une  concomitance  fatale 
dans  les  faits ;  le  Poet  veut  lui  qu'il  regne  dans 
•"  toute  la  texture  de  son  ouvrage  une  liaison 
"  apparente  et  sensible ;  en  sorte  qu'il  est  moins 
"  *orai,  et  plus  vraisemblable  que  fhistorien,'' — 
Diderot,  De  la  Poes.  Dram.  at.  the  end  of  his 
Fere  de  Famille,  p.  306. 


« 


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ti 


<< 


(( 


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(( 


»:%»! 


»« 


*44 


NOTES. 


NOTE    157. 

P.  158.  The  Chorus  should  be  consi- 
dered AS  ONE  of  the  persons  IN  THE 
DRAMA  -  -  -  AND  A  SHARER  IN  THE  ACTION. 

This  is  not,  I  think,  contradicted,  but  only  pro- 
perly limited  and  explained,  by  what  the  author 
says  elsewhere — that,  to  act,  is,  jJx  olxmv  x«{w'  In 
y«e  •  X^^  KHAETTHS  AIIPAKTOS  *  tvvoixv  ya^ 
fAtfvoy  wapi^iEron  ok  T«f in  *.  He  is,  there,  comparing 
the  Chorus  with  the  persons  of  the  drama.  In 
that  view,  the  Chorus  might  be  said,  compara- 
tively, to  have  no  share  in  the  action, — But  here^ 
he  is  comparing  those  Choruses  whose  songs  are 
properly  connected  with  the  action,  and  who  are 
interested  in  its  event,  with  such  as  appear  to  have 
no  concern  with  it,  and  to  be,  not  merely  inactive, 
but  indifferent,  spectators.  In  this  view,  it  was  as 
natural  to  say — the  Chorus  should  be  regarded  as 
a  persofi  of  the  drama,  and  a  sharer  in  the  action : 
m  sharer,  that  is,  not  by  the  active  part,  but  by  the 
warm  interest,  which  it  takes,  and  expresses,  in 
that  action.  However,  the  word  dirpaxr^  must 
not  be  taken  in  its  strictest  sense.  We  find  the 
Chorus,  in  the  Greek  Tragedies,  frequently  contri- 
buting, in  some  little  degree,  to  the  progress  of  the 
action,  by  active  offices  of  friendly  attenti<Mi  and 
assistance ;  as,  for  example,  in  the  Philoctetes, 
and  the  jrljar  of  Sophocles. 

•  Frob.  45,  of  Sea,  19. 


NOTES. 


HS 


NOTE    158. 

P.  159.    Their  Choral  Songs,  &c. 

There  cannot,  surely,  be  the  least  doubt,  that, 
for  AIAOMENA,  we  should  read,  A*AOMENA  :  an 
emendation  so  obvious,  that  it  occurred  to  me  the 
first  time  I  ever  read  the  passage.  But  I  after- 
wards found,  that  it  had  occurred,  long  ago,  to 
Madius;  a  circumstance,  which,  to  my  areat 
astonishment,  has  been  passed  over  in  utter  silence 
by  all  the  subsequent  commentators  that  I  have 
seen.  The  words  of  Madius  are—"  Mendum 
"  igitur  in  verbis  omnino  esse  censeo  ;  ac  primum 

b  voce  iiiofAiyoty  quce  in  locum  vocis  iiofkiyx 
"  irrcpsit :  nam  verbum  ahiv,   quod  paul6  post 

ponitur,  aperte  indicat,  locum,  ut  nos  fecimus, 

castigandum."—!  can  attribute  it  only  to  some 
inadvertence,  or  mistake,  that  Mr.  Wir»tenley,  in 
his  note,  p.  294,  has  omitted  to  take  notice  of  this 
most  material  part^  of  Madius's  comment  on  the 
passage.  The  emendation  is  confirmed  by  the 
«V«(r«,  and  aViii/,  which  follow;  by  the  extreme 
facility  of  the  mistake,  and  by  the  difficulty  of 
giving  any  reasonable  explanation  of  the  other 
reading.  AiiofAHfoi,  says  Victorius,  "  quia  magis- 
"  tratus  eos  (sc.  choros)  dabat."  But  he  agrees 
that  /xiAn  is  understood ;  and  though  we  read;  * 
often,  of  the  magistrate's  giving  a  Chorus,  (hyxi 
X^e^^i)  that  is,  furnishing  the  expence  of  the  choral 

B  3  dresses. 


« 


<( 


/ 


246  NOTE    S. 

dresses,  &c.  we  no  where  read,  I  believe,  of  their 
giving  the  Choral  Odes. 

NOTE    1,59. 

p.  160.  But  it  is  evident,  that,  with  re-. 

SPECT  TO  the  things  THEMSELVES  ALSO,  &C. 

Kflti  h  Toic  v^ocyfj.»(nu.  The  alteration  of  Heinsius, 
J^a/xao-ik,  appears  to  me,  not  only  to  be  unnecessary, 
but  to  pervert  Aristotle's  meaning.  Ta  7r^ocy[xar»y 
here,  are,  I  think,  the  ihi/fg^  themselves — the  cir- 
cumstances and  incidents  of  the  action  or  fable,  as 
opposed  to  Aiotvotoc,  the  sentiments^  or  thoughtSy 
and  to  oVflt  uVo  ra  AOrOT  X,  t.  aA.  He  had  referred 
to  the  rhetorical  treatises  for  what  concerns  the 
$iOLvoi%;  he  goes  on,  (after  a  short  explanation  of 
^ixyoioL  and  its  various  branches,) — ''  But  it  is 
''  plain,  that,  not  only  for  the  (Tiavoia,  or  sentiments; 
"  but  also  for  the  things  themselves  (KAI  i),  roig 
"  T^«7/xa(riv,)  how  they  are  to  be  made  terrible, 
"  piteoiiSy  &c.  the  Poet  should  draw  from  the  same 
"i  sources,  and  may  be  referred  to  the  same  trea- 
tises."— Tiius,  for  example,  in  the  second  book 
of  Aristotle's  Rhetoric,  he  may  learn  what  sort  of 
things,  persons,  and  events,  are  proper  to  raise 
terror  or  piti/  \  the  peculiar  objects  of  Tragic 
imitation.  After  which  observation,  he  goes  on, 
very  naturally  and  properly,  to  remark,  as  Dacier 
has  well  observed,  "  la  difference  entre  les  choses 
> **  que 


•  See  particularly  cap.  v.  and  viii.  ed.  Duval. 


NOTES.  247 

*'  que  traitent  les  Orateurs,  et  celles  que  traitent 
"  les  Poetes.''— For  the  rest,  my  idea  of  this  pas- 
sage accords  with  that  of  Dacier,  (note  3)  ;  but 
he  does  not  appear  to  have  seen  the  force  of  the 
expression,  KAI  iv  tok  ir^ay.  Indeed,  he  entirely 
drops  the  conjunction,  which  is  here  of  great  im- 
portance ;  for  it  seems  to  fix  the  sense  of  ^r^ay- 
fAao-ii^,  and  to  point  its  opposition  to  $ia,yoix : — T« 
fAfk  iy  fTE^i  ryiv  AIANOIAN  Iv  to*?  pur.  xutr^ta  '  -  - 
-     -      -     h\ov  h,  oTi  KAI  iyroiq  IIPArMASIN  aVo 

In  Goulston's  version,  which  follows  Castelvetro, 
this  opposition  is  rightly  expressed ;  but  in  what 
follows,  Aristotle's  meaning  is,  I  think,  mistaken : 
for  the  difference  he  is  shewing,  (ttAhv  Tcwrarov 
hoL(pi^ii^  &c.)  is  not,  I  apprehend,  the  difference 
between  the  things  and  the  sentiments,  in  Tragedy:, 
but,  between  the  things  themselves  only,  con- 
sidered in  different  views,  as  the  subject  of  the 
Orator,  or  of  the  Poe^.— These  commentators 
understand  the  expressions,  cv  tw  Aoyw,  and,  tx 
AfyokT(^,  of  the  dramatic  speech,  and  speaker. 

NOTE   160. 
P.    160.     Must    draw    from    the    same 

SOURCES . 

Attq  rm  ocirtay  i\$m  iu  ;^ii«-flat. — The  expres- 
sion, x^ntrloci  Ano,  is,  I  believe,  uncoinmon.     It 
seems  rightly  explained  by  Victorius  ''—  to  bor- 
row from ;"  —  "  quasi  utendum  illinc  sumere 
**  atque  rmtuari'' 

R  4 


1 


U 


S48 


NOTES. 


;iti 


NOTE     161. 

P.  160.     Without   being    shewn    to  be 

SUCH,    -    - 

— Aviv  McttrxxXtocq.  "  Senza  chc  ^idica  eche 
"  iinsegni  che  sian  tali." — Piccolomini: — I  be- 
lieve, very  exactly.  The  reader  may  compare 
Rhet.  I.  2.  p.  514,  B.  —  and  III.  1.  p.  584,  B. 
and,  (W«(rxax«xii,)  I.  2.  p.  515,  A. 

The  truth  of  what  the  philosopher  here  ob- 
serves, may  appear  from  this  single  consideration. 
Suppose  two  Tragedies  written  by  two  Poets  on 
the  same  subject,  and  of  which  the  plot  and  prin> 
cipal  incidents  are  the  same  * :  and  suppose  two 
pleadings  of  the  same  cause,  by  two  speakers.  It 
seems  very  plain,  that  the  difference  of  the  effect 
upon  an  audience  in  the  former  case,  would  bear 
much  less  proportion  to  the  difference  between  the 
PoetSj  than  it  would,  in  the  other  case,  to  the  dif- 
ference between  the  Speakers, 


*  For  example,  die  Aferope  of  Voltaire,  and  that  of 
Aaron  Hill.  As  poems,  there  can  be  no  comparison  be- 
tween these  two  productions.  But  I  doubt  whether,  in 
both,  the  Sd.me fabie  has  not  always  produced  much  the 
same  efect  upon  the  audience.  This  shews  the  truth 
and  propriety  of  the  rank  which  Aristotle  assigns  to  tht 
falfie,  as  tht  ^«  scul  of  Tragedy." 


NOTES. 


.    H9 


NOTE    163. 

P.  160.     If  they  already  appear  so  in 

THEMSELVES. 

-—El  fcuvoiro  iha. — That  iiioc  is  wrong,  I  have 
no  doubt.  For  if  we  admit  it,  we  must  take  it,  as 
Victorius  does,  for  a  single  instance ;  as  if  Aristotle 
had  said,   **  aut  jucundae,   aut  tristes,  aut  atro- 

**  ces,  &c. :  quamvis  enim  nunc  unum  horum 

"  ponat,  i.  e.  jucunda,  reliqua  tamen  audienda 
"  sunt'' — But  how  improbable  it  is,  that  he  should 
not  chase  his  single  instance,  if  he  meant  to  give 
one,  out  of  those  which  had  just  been  mentioned  ? — 
that  he  should  not  rather  have  said,  tl  ^ocivoiro 
fAcftya,  or  him,  than  iie», Jucunda;  which,  besides, 
is  evidently  not  at  all  to  his  purpose.  I  cannot, 
therefore,  help  thinking  it  something  more  than 
probable,  that  Aristotle  wrote  this,  ^antoiro  HAH 
[sc  TQiOLnrot, — that  is,  lAini^a,  JiM^a,  &c] — "  If  tliey 
*'  appear  already  so ; — in  themselves''  The  ellip- 
tic brevity  of  the  expression  will  hardly  be  objected 
10,  in  a  writer  who  abounds  with  instances  much 
more  harsh  and  obscure  tiian  this.  In  the  same 
manner,  roittvra  is  understood  with  faiyttriM  Just 
before :  •—  r«  fity  J<i  ^Mviffiai  (sc.  roiamra)  imf 
hiaa-KotXMf, 

The  same  conjecture  had,  I  find,  occurred,  long 

"Hgo,  to  Castelvetro,  but,  which  I  think  somewhat 

singular,  has  not  been  taken  notice  of  by  aay  of 

the 


•(  #1 


i( 


« 


<i 


cc 


u 


ti 


250  .  NOTES.' 

the  commentators  I  have  seen.  He  savs — "  h 
(poc^vono  ^hx :  coloro,  li  quali  non  riconoscono 
che  qui  sia  errore,  assegnino  k  queste  parole,  se 
possono,  senso  dcgno  e  conveniente  ad  Aristotele. 
Adunque  10  crederei  che  non  fosse  male  i  leg- 
gere  »i7»i,  in  luogo  d'  uVra,  e'l  senso  sarebbe  con- 
vencvole."  [p.  406.] 
The  reader  may  see  a  very  different  explanation 
of  this  ^A  hole  passage  in  the  Abbe  Batteux's  notes  ; 
but  an  explanation  which  cannot,  in  my  opinion, 
be  reconciled  to  the  text.  His  censure  of  Dacier 
and  others,  that  they  have  rendered  this  chapter 
"  a  contrcsens,"'  seems  to  me  to  recoil  upon 
himself. 

NOTE    163. 

P.  160.     Figures  of  speech  -  -  -. 

T«  fryr^iKOLTx  mf  Argiwf — .  Dacier,  Batteux, 
and  indeed  almost  all  the  commentators,  seem  to 
take  <r;j^t,^aT«,  here,  for  the  gestures,  modifications 
of  countenance,  and  tones  of  voice,  that  accom' 
pany  speech  ♦.  But,/r^f,  I  much  doubt  whether 
the  Greek  will  fairly  admit  of  such  a  sense.  Aris- 
totle says,  frxr^^xTx  AEHEns,  figures,  or  forms, 
of  the  speech  itself  not  of  the  speaker.  The  same 
expression  occurs  several  times  in  the  Rhetoric, 
and  always  means  the  form  of  the  diction  itself; 

never 


**  ^>:>V«»Ta  vocat  habitus  quosdam,  conformadonesque 
"  orisjrontis,  oculorum,  vulius,  resticulationis  manuum"  &c. 

Tf^      lit*  ^ 


NOTES.  ■     25t 

never  the  gesture  with  which  it  is  delivered*. — 
2.  Aristotle  explains  himself  by — iiov,  TI  ivroXrt 
XXI  TI  fu;^tj,  &c.  i.e.  zvkat  they  are,  not,  what' 
action  or  tone  of  voice  they  require  ^ ;  "  avec  quel 
"  ton  et  quel  geste  on  ordonne^  as  M.  Batteux  un- 
warrantably translates  it. — 3.  Aristotle  says,  that 
no  blame,  or  none  worth  regarding,  (aftoi/  (TTrac^nf,) 
can  fall  upon  the  Poetry,  (^k  rtjk  7roi»iTixuv,)  in 
consequence  of  the  Poet's  ignorance  of  these  mat- 
ters, or  of  his  not  knowing  them  technicLUy. 
A  remark,  surely,  very  unnecessary,  if  mere  action 
and  pronunciation  were  intended  by  (r;^»jjtAaT«. — 
But,  4.  The  thing  seems  evident  from  the  instance 
given  of  a  criticism  of  this  kind.  Protagoras 
plainly  charged  Homer  with  ignorance,  or  inac- 
curacy, with  respect  to  these  o-p^ujaaTa  Xfffwc, 
whatever  they  were.  Now,  according  to  the 
common  explanation,  the  criticism  could  fall  only 
on  Homer's  pronunciation  or  action :  but,  of  this, 
Protagoras  knew  nothing ;  all  he  appears  to  have 
meant,  is,  that  Homer  had  made  an  improper  use 
of  the  imperative  mood;  that  is,  had  used  one 
^X"/^^  ^f?^®?,  where  he  should  have  used  another. 
But  what,  then,  are  we  to  understand  by  these 
^X*'/*^'^*  ^«5«wc  ? — The  learned  reader  will  imme- 
diately see,  that,  as  Victorius  has  observed,  they 

are 


Robortelli,  p.  227. 


*  Rhet.  II.  24,  p.  579.  III.  8,  p.  591,  B.  and  10, 
p,  594,  B.— And  De  Soph.  Elench,ip,  284,  D. 

*•  Had  this  been  his  meaning,  he  would  rather  have  said 
"  TI  ENTOAHS-^ri  ETXH2/'  &c. 


^^' 


i 


2s%  NOTES, 

are  not  to  be  confounded  with  those  (rx^fAara 
Aigiojf,  of  wliich  we  hear  so  much  from  Cicero, 
Quintilian,  Dion.  Hal.  &c. —  those  ''  figurae  ver- 
*'  borumy'  which  are  opposed  to  the  a-x^f^otrx 
iiocy9ix;y  the  "  figurae  mentis,  sententiarum,'"  &c. 
Indeed,  no  such  division  of  cx^iaatx  is,  I  believe, 
to  be  found  in  Aristotle.  It  seems  to  have  been 
the  invention  of  the  later  Rhetoricians ;  and  how 
little  they  were  agreed,  as  to  the  number  and  the 
species  of  these  <r;^tjfxaTa,  the  propriety  of  the 
division  itself,  and  even  the  precise  sense  of  the 
word  (fx^i^^y  ^^y  b^  seen  in  Quintilian  IX.  i. — 
The  (Txr^iAoirsi,  Xij^iug  of  Aristotle,  in  this  place,  are 
plainly  such,  as  would  have  been  denominated  by 
later  writers,  crp^n/xara  ^lavoie^ — figures  gf  the 
thought  or  ^ense.  Indeed  we  find  them  actually 
enumerated  among  the  figures  of  that  class.  See 
Dioni/s.  Halicarn.  de  Struct.  &c.  Sect,  i, —  So 
Quintilian ;  **  Figuras  quoque  mentisy  quae  cx»»- 
*'  ^«T«  ^lavoiag  dicuntur,  res  eadem  recipit  omnes, 
"  in  quas  nonnuUi  diviserunt  species  dictorum, 
"  (he.ofjokesybommots.)  l^eimei  interrogamus, 
"  et  dubitamus,  et  affirmamus,  et  minemur,  et 
*'  optamus  *." 

I  see,  therefore,  not  the  least  reason,  why  the 
expression  <r;^w/*a  A£fi«f  should  not  be  rendered 
here,  exactly  as  in  the  other  passages  above  referred 
to,  ^^Jigura  orationis' — form,  or  cofijiguration,  of 
speech.  For  A«Ji?,  it  must  be  observed,  is  here 
used, 

1  De  Instii.  Or.  VI.  3.  p.  316.  id.  Gibs. 


u 


u 


NOTES.  153 

Irted,  not  in  the  particular  sense  of  diction,  or 
style  and  marmer  of  expression,  (as  it  is  used 
Rhet,  II i.  8.)  but  in  the  general  sense  of  Aoy©*, 
speech,  as  we  find  it  used  in  the  beginning  of  the 
next  chapter. 

But  though  I  cannot  admit,  that  <r;^»j/*aT«  means 
"  configurationes  om,"  &c.  or,  should  be  so  ren- 
dered, yet  I  certainly  admit,  that  Aristotle  appears 
plainly  to  consider  these  different  forms  of  speech, 
or  sentences,  with  a  view  to  action,  or  delivery  ; 
and,  possibly,  the  observation  of  Victorius  may  be 
well  founded,  that — "  vocatas  hvdfgura  ita  viden- 
tur,  quia  aliter  atque  aliter  vultus,  totumque 
corpus,  cum  variantur  illce,  conformantur ;  ut 
"  merit6  h^c  de  caus^,  c'x^i^ot.rx,  figuras,  ips» 
"  appellatae  sint."— I  find  the  same  thing  in  the 
following  passage  of  Aristides  Quintilianus,  which 
seems  evidently  to  allude  to  this  very  part  of 
Aristotle's  treatise,  and  may  be  thought  to  afford 
some  illustration. — Ilff*  h  tji?  t«v  SXHMATflN 
-^u<r£«c,  Uf  fr^otrnyuv  y^n  ra  voniAura,  i  iroKXot  Asyiii^ 
^uv  iysfAtiu  'IKANH  TAP  "H  'TnOKPIIir  TATTA 
'AHAX2SAI.  Ka«  yx^  nsrtav  Ixaroy  [i.e.  each  of 
these  o-^u^aTa  ^javoiac,  or  ¥oniJ,ar(ii,,]  u*  cri/nXAtt  T«f, 
'WC  «»  ^afa»Ti|«i^  71  awufl-j*,  »f  act  CT;y;^««ij<rfi?,  rffp 
^layoiav*  xa*  ijrot  fAix^oir^sTrtig,  cJ?  a«  hopitofru^,  n 
[Aiya^uHg,  (ig  ii  yvw/xoAoytat  x«t  a^tiyiKTiif,  dinpyx'' 
^ovTflit.  uv  UxfH  rnv  mpyuxv  EK  TX2N  TTliaN 
APIzr  AN  AIArNOIHMEN,  'nN  [leg.  forte  t>T£] 
.TEKA2T0N,  KATA  TON  THS  rnOKPI2EXiZ  KAI- 

PON, 


254  MOTES. 

PON,  TOir  SHMAIIN  ENTieHII  *  nAP'  *0  KAI 
SXHMASIN  ATTOIS  STNEBH  KAH8HNAI  \ 
-  I  ratlier  suspect,  we  should  read  nPOAFEIN,  in 
the  beginning  of  this  passage;  in  the  sense  of 
ix^t(nify  w^o^t^iiVy  &c.  Meibomius  renders  o-^rifAaruf, 
**  gestuum,'  which  cannot  be  the  meaning  ;  for  by 
the  mruif  Uxfoy,  and  the  exempUfication  which 
follows,  (waponTf^tru;,  o-uyp^w^no-ftf,  &c.)  and,  indeed, 
by  all  the  rest  of  the  passage,  it  is  clear,  that  he 
speaks  of  the  configurations  of  the  speech  or  sen- 
tence, of  which  he  goes  on  to  describe  the  different 
effects,  j^r^^  on  the  mindy  and,  ultimately,  on  the 
action,  of  the  speaker.  The  version  should,  there- 
fore, have  been  thus  :  —  *^  Defgurarum  naturA 
"  quibus  animi  notiones  proferendcBy'  &c.  Or, 
if  Trpotrocynv  be  right,  the  meaning,  I  think,  must 
be — ^*  to  xchich  those  votijtAara  are  to  be  referred — 
**  under  which  they  are  to  be  classed.''  See  the 
passage  above,  from  Quintilian,  and  that  of  Dion. 
Hal.  Sect.  8.  which  is  much  to  the  purpose. 

Why  Aristotle  should  dismiss  this  subject,  as  of 
much  more  concern,  to  the  Actor,  than  to  the 
Poet,  requires  no  explanation.  There  could  scarce, 
indeed,  be  any  other  occasion  for  the  study  of  these 
(r;^?ijutaTa,  but  in  order  to  learn,  or  to  teach,  in  what 
manner,  with  what  variations  of  tone,  countenance, 
and  gesture,  propriety  required  them  to  be  pro- 
nounced.— At  the  same  time,  it  will  not  appear 
strange  that  he  should  mention  them,  if  we  recollect, 

that 
t  Aristid.  QuintiU  "  De  Musica;'  p.  86;  ed.  Mcibmii. 


It   O    T    E    S/  255 

that  the  Poets  themselves  were,  at  first,  actors 
also,  in  their  own  pieces,  and,  afterwards,  no 
doubt, Instructed  their  actors;  and  hence  perhaps, 
after  all — not,  as  is  commonly  understood,  from 
the  moral  teaching  of  the  drama  itself  *— the  well 
known  phrases,  ^JxtrKuv  r^xy^A^mty,  docere  fabu- 
lamj  &c.  may,  most  naturally,  be  accounted  for. 

Nor  was  this  practice  peculiar  to  antient  times. 
We  know  with  what  eagerness  and  animation 
Voltaire  taught  his  Tragedies,  almost  to  his  ktest 
hour.  During  his  last  visit  to  Paris,  where  he 
died,  "  II  n  y  vit  rien,  ne  songea  a  y  rien  voir ; 
"  il  ny  v^cut  que  pour  des  Comediens,  qu'il 
"  fatiguoit,  en  voulant  leur  donner  des  lemons  de 
"  declamation  \'' 

NOTE  164.  . 

P.  161.    The  professed  masters  of  that 

KIND — . 
— Th  Til*  roiocvrny  Ix^yr^  'APXITEKTONIKHN. 

For  this  word,  see  Eth.  Nicom,  I.  1,  2. — Thus, 
here,  it  seems  to  mean  that  master  art,  which 
teaches  the  principles  of  elocution,  the  art  oi public 
speaking,  in  general 

■  _    

*  Sec  Casaub.  in  Allien,  f,  413.  and  De  Satyr.  Poes. 
P-II3 

*  Tableau  de  Paris,  tome  viii.  p.  20.  Since  this  note 
was  written,  I  have  had  the  satisfaction  to  find  the  above 
explanation  of  the  phrase  ^I'^xtrxtiv  r^aywSiav.&c.  supported 
by  Heyne  :  «  AiJiw^aA®-  est  poeta,  qui  fabulam  committit, 
''  in  theatrum  producit  j  quia  earn  actores  docetr-^ln 
Epicteti  Enchir,  cap,  xvii. 


>u 


%' 


as6 


NOTES. 


i 


1 


I 


NOTE    165. 

P.  161.   The  cavil  of  Protagoras  -  -  -. 

See  Hermes,  I.  8.  p.  144. 

This,  it  seems,  was  his  usual  style  of  criticism ; 

for,    ^iftvoiay  af  cic>  vf^n  rtvofxa,  ^nks^in,    as  Diog. 

I-aertius  says  of  him  *.  He  seems,  indeed,  to  have 
been  the  inventCM*  of  these  vx^fxarx  Xt^iwq,  At 
least  the  same  writer  say^,  ^t«Xf  rov  Aoyov  IIPXiTOS 
lie  TtiTirxpA'  'ETXXiAHN,  'EPX1TH2IN,  'AHOKPI- 
XIN,    •ENTOAHN-  (o't    ^1,    tU   i7rra  —  x,r.cc\.)    »f 

jcflM  7r\jtfAtmg  ilwt  A«y«» : —  "  the  Jhundations  of 
speech  \" 

There  is  sometliing  amusing  in  the  history  of 
this  man.  He  was  originally  a  porter ;  and  might 
have  continued  so,  if  his  extraordinary  genius  for 
tying  up  wood  had  not  attracted  the  notice  of 
Democritus,  by  whose  instructions  and  encourage- 
ment, from  an  eminent  porter,  he  became  as 
eminent  a  sophist.  The  reader  may  see  the  story 
in  Aulus  Gellius,V.  3.— The  public  was,  certainly, 
not  much  obliged  to  Democritus.  Protagoras  was 
of  more  use  to  mankind  when  he  invented  porters' 
knots  ^,  than  when  he  invented  the  rx»»/A«T«  Aijwf, 

and 

*  IX.  52.  4^.  Meib. 

*  IX.  54. — See  Hermes,  as  above,  about  the  diftereot 
species  of  sentences ;  and  ch,  ii. 

'  —  Tur  MakHfaam  TT AHN,  «>'  Af  ra  0o^ta  ffitra^wi, 
«j/^,  «f  pmv  A^iroT£^.     D,  Laert,  IX.  $$• 


NOTES.  257 

und  undertook  to  teach,  at  the  price  of  a  hundred 
mhice  \  the  art  of  Belial 

----*'  to  make  the  worse 
"  Appear  the  better  reason  :*' 

70V  fjTTca  Xoyov  k^uttu  ttoiuv  ^ 

"  If  a  cobler^'  says  Socrates  in  the  Meno  of 
Plato,  "  or  a  taylor,  should  return  the  shoes,  or 
"  the  clothes,  he  undertook  to  mend,  in  a  worse 

condition  than  that,  in  which  he  received  them, 
''  he  would  §ooa  lose  his  business,  and  be  starved 

for  want  of  work.     But  it  is  not  so  with  the 

sophists.  Protagoras  was  able  to  carry  on, 
'I  for  forty  years  together,  without  detection,  and 
II  with  great  credit,  the  trade  of  spoiling  all  those 
"  who  became  his  disciples,  and  sending  them 
"  back  much  worse  than  he  found  them  ^" 


a 


ti 


II 


u 


NOTE    166. 
P.  161.     To  ALL  DICTION  BELONG,  &C.  -  - 

See  Diss.  I.  p.  55.  vol.  i.— After  having  discus- 
sed  three  of  the  constituent  parts  of  Tragedy,  the 
fable,  the  manners,  and  the  sentiments,  Aristotle 
now  comes  to  the  diction  (Af^jc),  upon  which  he 
bestows  three  chapters.  His  subject  plainly 
, required 

^  Above  £,  300.— D.  Laert.  ibid,  and  Suidas.  Aris- 
totle, however,  gives  a  different  account  of  the  way  in 
which  he  was  paid.  Ethic,  Nicom.  IX.  i.  '      ' 

*  See  R/jet.  II.  24.  p.  581,  D. 

'  Ed.  Serr.  torn.  ii.  p.  91. 

VOL.  IJ.  s 


ajS  N    O    Y    E    S. 

required  him  to  speak  of  the  diction  of  Tragedy  % 
not  of  poetic  diction  in  general;  much  less,  to 
descend  to  the  grammatical  elements  of  language 
in  gefieral.  Yet,  of  his  three  chapters  on  diction, 
the  first  is  merely  grammatical,  and  such,  as  even 
in  a  rhetoj^cal  treatise  would  appear  misplaced ; 
and  even  the  two  following  chapters  relate  to  poetic 
language  in  general,  without  any  thing  applicable 
to  the  diction  of  Tragedy  in  particular — his  proper 
subject — except  a  single  observation,  or,  rather, 
hint,  at  the  end  of  the  third  chapter  ^ 

Dacier,  who  discharged,  with  as  much  fidelity 
as  any  commentator  ever  did,  the  duty  of  seeing 
nothing  amiss  in  his  author,  has  zealously  defended 
the  propriety  of  this  grammatical  chapter :  but 
all  he  says  amounts,  I  think,  to  little  more  than 
this — that  the  chapter  should  be  there,  because  it 
is  there.  No  man  is  nice  about  reasons,  when  the 
point  to  be  proved  has  been  determined  before  he 
looks  for  them. 

NOTE    167. 

P.  161.     Discourse  or  speech — • 

AOroi. — Mr.  Harris,  in  the   Hermes,  p.  19, 

has  rendered  the  w  ord,  sentence.     He  took  that 

part  of  the  idea,  that  suited  his  subject ;  but,  that 

tljis  is  not  the  whole  sense  of  the  word,  but  only  a 

sense 

*  See  the  conclusion  of  cap.  xxii.  Ilfft  (abv  iv  T/?ay«- 
ha;,  M.  r.aX. 

**  See  NOTE  209. 


I^    O    T    E    S.  2S9 

aense  included  in  the  word,  is  evident  from  what  is 
»aid  below,  in  the  definition  of  Ao^,  where  the 
entire  Diad  is  comprehended  under  that  term. 
Had  I  here  rendered  ?ioy&»  by  sentence,  I  must,  to 
have  been  consistent  in  my  translation,  have  there 
called  the  Iliad  a  sentence. 

The  word  Xoy^  here  plainly  answers — not  to 
sentence,  exclusively,  nor  yet,  exclusively,  to  what 
Mr.  Harris  calls  ''  Oration  or  Discourse  \''  as 
composed  of  several  sentences ;  but,  it  is  a  ge- 
neral term,  comprehending  both  these,  and  appli- 
cable, like  the  Latin  word  oratio,  or  the  English, 
speech,  to  every  significatit  combination  of  words, 
whether  consisting  of  a  single  sentence,  or  of  many  ; 
as,  indeed,  appears  from  Aristotle's  definition  itself. 
Nay,  the  word  appears  not  even  to  have  been 
limited  to  a  complete  assertive  sentence ;  for  the 
philosopher,  in  the  treatise  -m^i  'Ef^fixmoc^,  gives 

the  denomination  of  Xoy^  to  these  two  words 

JMfXof  Itt^^.  He  says,  h  TXi*  AOrii*,  (in  hac 
orationej  xu\og  lirni^.  It  was  what  he  calls  a 
merely  significant  Xoy^,  as  distinguished  from  an 
assertive  Xoy^,  or  proposition,  such  as,  x«xO* 
E2T1N  Ittt^'. 

I  was  unable  to  find  any  English  word,  that 
would  express  Xoy^  adequately,  and  clearly. 
And  it  seems  somewhat  remarkable,  that  the 
Greek  language,  rich  and  copious  as  it  is,  should 
not  afford— at  least  I  am  not  aware  that  it  does— 
-  any 


Hi 


eimesy  p.  324. 
S  2 


■  ^ 


>6o  NOTE    S. 

any  single  word  perfectly  synonymous  to  our  word, 
sentence.  A«y^,  as  I  have  observed,  is  too  wide'r 
it  serves  equally  to  express  a  single  sentence,  or  a 
whole  speech,  or  even  less  than  a  sentence.  It 
is  applied  by  Aristotle  to  a  combination  of  two 
words — a  substantive  and  an  adjective,  without  a 
*oerb — and,  to  tiie  Iliad,  Ilipioi^  was  only  one 
particular  kind,  or  form,  of  sentence  \  KuXov  did 
not  necessarily  contain  a  complete  sense,  or  thought, 
which  is  essential  to  our  word,  sentence  ^ 

NOTE   168. 

P.  162.      In     different    ?arts    of    thjc 

MOUTH    -    -    -. 

Toiroif. — Clearly  right;  nor  can  I  -conceive, 
what  should  have'  induced  any  critic  to  suspect 
this  reading.— See  Dionys.  Halicam.  Sect.  14. — 
his  curious  and  accurate  analysis  of  articulation  : 
and  Aristides  Quintil  p.  89.  cd.  Afeib.— where,  in 
describing  the  fonnation  of  the  letters,  these  ex- 
pressions occur : — U  t«v  tti/m  th?  oio^Tag  TOnnN 
— and,  fx  ixtcra  T«  fuvnTnta  TonOT.  '  See,  also, 
Hermes,  III.  2,  p.  322.— TONOIS,  which  Ijad 
occurred  to  Mr.  Winstanley*,  would  be  mere 
tautology ;  for  that  idea  is  fully  expressed  after- 
wards, by  ajuTUT*  xctt  ptt^vrnru   Thus,  R/iet.  III.  1. 

Toi?   TONOir,   'OION   lliia  x«»  /3apii«,  xai  ^lo-jj. 

*  See  Rhet.  III.  9.  p.  592.     «  Demet.  ^e  E/oc,  Sect,  2. 

•  Ed.  Ox.  1780,  p.  296. 


NOTES. 


261 


NOTE  .169. 

P.  162.      As  THEIR  TONE    IS  ACUTE,    GRAVE, 
OR    INTERMEDIATE. 

OjuTijTi,  p»pvTnTi,  xat  ru>  fxio-u. — All  the  com- 
mentators seem  agreed,  that  by  tw  jtA^o-w  is  meant 
the  circumflex.      Mr.   Foster,  in   his   Essay  on 
Accent,  &c.  expresses  some  degree  of  doubt  about 
this*;   and,  I  confess,  it  appears  to  me  to  be 
somewhat   more   than    doubtful.     Certainly,    the 
only  obvious  and  proper  sense  of  the  word  mean, 
or  middle,  thus  apphed  to  the  pitch  of  sound,  is, 
that  which   is   between   JJu   and   |3«/>u;  not,  that 
which  is  compounded  oi  the  two,  as  the  circumflex 
is  always  represented  to  be.     At  least  the  expres- 
sion, in  this  latter  sense,  would  not  be  very  accu- 
rate and  philosophical.     A  circumflexed  syllable 
is  described  to  be,  a  syllable  that  has  both  an 
acute  and  a  grave  accent;— a/x^oTi/xzf  tck;  rx(Tnq, 
as  it  is  expressed  by  Dion.  Halicam.   Sect.    11. 
The  voice  first  rises,  and  then  falls,  on  the  same 
syllable,     A  man  would  be  thought  to  speak  very 
strangely,  who  should  describe  any  object  painted 
half  white  and  half  black,  by  saying,  that  it  was 
of  a  colour  between  black  and  xvhite. 

But,  farther,  I  observe,  that  in  other  passages 
of  Aristotle's  works,  where  lie  speaks  of  accents, 
the  word  fAi<roy  no  where  occurs.  Indeed,  he 
Mses  neither  this,   nor  any  other  word,  to  denote 

.  the 

'  p.  22. — See  the  note, 

S3 


a6t  NOTES. 

the  circwiiflex  accent.  He  mentions  only  ifu,  and 
j3afu,  aaite,  and  grave.  See  De  Soph,  Elench. 
p. 284,  C.~-288,  E.— 304,  A.— 306,  A. erf.  Dmmi 
In  the  last  of  these  passages  especially,  his  eX' 
pression  is  remarkable :  u  voc^oc  ir^o<ru>^iav  o^n<xy, 

'H  BAPEIA  Tf  0(j-«<^»»  Xwig '   il  ^i    irocr^x  (3«^i*ak,  *H 

Q^EIA.  That  is — "  If  the  sophism  supposes  the 
"  acute  accejity  the  answer  is — it  is  the  grave 
"  accent;  and  vice  versa.''  Here  are  no  traces 
of  the  triple  division  of  accents,  given  by  later 
writers,  into  acute,  grave,  and  circumflex.  Nay 
more ;  he  speaks  in  the  same  way,  even  when  the 
very  ambiguity  in  question  lies  between  an  acute, 
und  a  circumflex,  accent ;  as,  i,  (nonj  and  'J  (ubi)* 
See  the  passage,  p.  304,  A :  where  the  circum- 
flexed  *5  is  expressed  by  the  word  j3afUTifok\ — 
This,  I  confess,  much  increases  my  doubt  with 
respect  to  the  word  iaktu  in  the  passage  before  us. 
For,  had  that  been  Aristotle's  term  for  the  dr- 
cumjiex  accent,  as  the  common  explanation  sup- 
poses, we  probably  should  have  found  the  expres- 
sion in  some  of  the  passages  referred  to ;  at  least, 
in  that  last  mentioned. 

I  cannot,  surely,  be  misunderstood,  as  meaning 
to  infer,  from  these  passages,  that  the  flexure  itself 
of  the  voice  upon  a  single  syllable,  which  was 
afterwards  denominated  by  Grammarians,  Tf^io- 
TWjuiinj,  was  unknown  to  Aristotle  and  the  earlier 

writers. 

.  *  A  marginal  note  in  Duval's  ed.  says — "  Semper 
cnim  Aristoteies  ^ftia¥  vocat  -mv  m^i7vo)fitvrtv»** 


NOTES.  263 

writers.  The  thing,  undoubtedly,  has  always 
existed,  and  ?nust  exist,  more  or  less,  in  every 
language.  But  these  passages  do,  I  think,  afford 
a  pretty  strong  presumption,  that  the  circumflex 
had  then  no  appropriated  term^,  and,  conse- 
quently, that,  in  tfiis  passage,  the  word  fAtirci^  has 
a  different,  and  its  iisual  and  proper^  meaning; 
that,  in  which  it  is  used  continually  by  the  writers 
on  Harmonics  ^. 

But,  farther,  it  appears  to  be  so  used  by  Aris- 
totle himself,  in  a  similar  passage  of  his  Rhetoric. 
In  the  beginning  of  the  third  book,  speaking  of 
oratorical  action  or  delivery,  (vwox^Kri^)  as  far  as 
it  relates  to  the  voice,  he  says,   iV*  h  dvrv  fi.iy  ep 

FOTi  /Aiy«X«,  xtci,  TTQTi  /Aix^ft,  xai  won  fABcti*  xai  trui 
TOK  ToycK,  oioir,  ofjijt,  xKi  (^Afuoi,  xai  MEIH».   Now, 

even  supposing  tliis  to  relate  to  accents,  it  seems, 
.  '  that 

'   '        '  ■ 

•  Mr.  Foster,  who  had  undoubtedly  examined  this 
matter  more  thoroughly  than  I  pretend  to  have  done, 
does  not,  I  think,  produce  any  such  c/ear/y  appropriated 
term,  from  Aristotle,  Plato,  Aristoxenus,  or  any  other 
•  writer  of  that  age.  See  ch.  v.  p.  140,  ^cc.  of  his  very 
learned  Essay  on  Accent  and  Quantity,  &c. 

•»  -See  the   passage   from    Euclid,   below.     Thus  too 

Bacchius:   T^otth^  rri^  puvng  Trotmi  >^ofm  tlvou; Tf«f 

iiiAf,  MESON,  ^afw.  p.  10.  ed.  yl/«^.— meaning,  by  ^<rw, 
the  Phrygian  mode  or  key,  which  was  between  the 
Dorian  and  the  Lydian,  as  D  is  between  C  and  E.— 
So  Arist.  QuintiL  t«t«v,  q  h^v  ^i,^,,^,  ar^o^  ^^  &a^vr,^  t«j 

f^vyi©-,  vfoi  ra  ME2A.  /.  25. 

&  4 


t  II 


i6t  NOTES. 

the  circtmiflejv  accent.  He  mentions  only  o£u,  and 
j3afu,  aaite,  and  grave.  See  De  Soph,  Elenck. 
p.  284,  C— 288,  E.— 304,  A.— 306,  A.ed.  thcvai 
In  the  last  of  these  passages  especially,  his  ex' 
pression  is  remarkable:  i\  voc^x  tr^oa-tJioiv  o^uocy, 

*H   BAPEIA  Tf  0(r«^*«  Auvif  *   il  $i    noL^oc  ^ol^um^  'H 

OHEIA.  That  is — "  If  the  sophism  supposes  the 
"  acute  accent y  the  answer  is — it  is  the  grave 
"  accent  y  and  vice  versa.''  Here  are  no  traces 
of  the  triple  division  of  accents,  given  by  later 
writers,  into  acute,  grave,  and  circumflex.  Nay 
more ;  he  speaks  in  the  same  way,  even  when  the 
very  ambiguity  in  question  lies  between  an  acute, 
and  a  circumfkjc,  accent ;  as,  »,  (non^)  and  'i  (ubi). 
See  the  passage,  p.  304,  A:  where  the  circum- 
flexed  '«  is  expressed  by  the  word  j3«^uTffok^ — 
This,  I  confess,  much  increases  my  doubt  with 
respect  to  the  word  /xfo-w  in  the  passage  before  us. 
For,  had  that  been  Aristotle's  term  for  the  cir- 
cumfiex  accent,  as  the  common  explanation  sup- 
poses, we  probably  should  have  found  the  expres- 
sion in  some  of  the  passages  referred  to ;  at  least, 
Jn  that  last  mentioned. 

I  cannot,  surely,  be  misunderstood,  as  meaning 
to  infer,  from  these  passages,  that  the  flexure  itself 
of  the  voice  upon  a  single  syllable,  which  was 
afterwards  denominated  by  Grammarians,  xt^ttr- 
Tw/tAiKu,  was  unknown  to  Aristotle  and  the  earlier 

writers. 

i«  ■■■    ■'  ■  III. 

-  *  A   marginal   note   in  Duval's   ed.   says — "  Semper 
cnim  Aristoteles  fia^nw  vocat  -mv  m^KywfAtYrjy.'* 


NOTES.  263 

writers.  The  thing,  undoubtedly,  has  always 
existed,  and  rnust  exist,  more  or  less,  in  every 
language.  But  these  passages  do,  I  think,  afford 
a  pretty  strong  presumption,  that  the  circumflex 
had  then  no  appropriated  term^  and,  conse- 
quently, that,  in  tfiis  passage,  the  word  fAttroy  has 
a  difterent,  and  its  usual  and  proper,  meaning; 
that,  in  which  it  is  used  continually  by  the  writers 
on  Harmonics  ^ 

But  farther,  it  appears  to  be  so  used  by  Aris- 
totle himself,  in  a  similar  pass*ige  of  his  Rhetoric. 
In  the  beginning  of  the  third  book,  speaking  of 
oratorical  action  or  delivery,  (iwox^Kr^g)  as  far  as 
it  relates  to  the  voice,  he  says,    iV»  it   dvTv  [Mtv  h 

vpTt  fAiyxXn,  xmi  7r9Tt  fxix^j*,  nxi  iron  jUfcrp*   xa»  ir«g 
ro<f  Toveif,  oiQy,  o^n^,  xa*  jSajpiia,  xai  MESHi.   Now, 

even  supposing  tliis  to  relate  to  accents,  it  seems, 
_      ,  that 

^ 

•  Mr.  Foster,  who  had  undoubtedly  examined  this 
matter  more  thoroughly  than  I  pretend  to  have  done, 
does  not,  I  think,  produce  any  such  cJear/y  appropriated 
term,  from  Aristotle,  Plato,  Aristoxenus,  or  any  other 
writer  of  that  age.  See  ch.  v.  p.  140,  ecc.  of  his  very 
learned  Essay  on  Acent  and  Quantity,  &c. 

^  See  the   passage   from    Euclid,   below.     Thus  too 

Baechtus:   T^om^  rm  fwwjf  7ro(7»^  >^OfAa  uvau; Tf«f 

HiA,,  MESON,  ^a^ir>,  p.  lo.  ed.  yl/«A~meaning,  by  ^^e«, 
the  Phrygian  mode  or  key,  which  was  between  the 
Dorian  and  the  Lydian,  as  D  is  between  C  and  E.— 
So  Arist,  Qumtil.  tstwv,  0  fjnv  ^i^,  vpo;  rm  $afvrifa  tuj 

ff^<®-,  Tffoj  Tot  MESA.  p.  25.  ■'' 

s  4 


M>     .    ^ 


164  NOTES. 

that  /xfflry,  here,  should  naturally  have  tlic  same 
meaning,   with  respect  to  ©$£*>,  and  p«/»i»a,  as  it 
has  when  applied  immediately  before  to  fxtyxXn 
and  ^*Jc/)«,  where  it  plainly  means  the  medium  be- 
tween loud  and  soft. — But  I  think   the   passage 
clearly  does  not  relate  to  the  mere  syllabic  accent: 
for  he  is  there  professedly  speaking  of  the  accom- 
modation of  the  voice  to  the  expression  of  differ- 
ent passiojis ;  he  must  therefore  mean  such  varia- 
tion  of   tone   or   pitch,    as    depends  upon    the 
speaker  s  choice ;  net  that  of  the  accentual  acute- 
ness  and  gravity ;  for  this  is  always  spoken  of  as 
a  fixed  and  invariable  thing '.     Aristotle  tlierefore 
means,  I  believe,  exactly  what  Cicero  has  expres- 
sed m  the  following  words ;  and,  from  the  simili- 
tude of  the  expression,  it  seems  probable,  that  he 
had  this  very  passage  of  Aristotle  before  him,  or 
in  his  memory.—"  Nam  voceSy  ut  chordse,  sunt 
*'  intentce,  qua3  ad  quemque  lactum  respondeant, 
"  acuta,  gra'vis;  cita,  tarda;  magmiy  parva;  quas 
"  tamen  inter  omnes  est  sua  quoque  in  genera 
"  medwcris:'— That  is,   as  it  seems  rightly  ex- 
plained by  Dr.  Pearce,  every  one  of  these  differ- 
ences of  voice,  high  and  low,  loud  and  soft,  &c. 
has    its  medium  —  [xstroy^.     To    this   passage  of 
Cicero,  I  shall  add  one  from   Quintilian  to  the 
same  purpose,  and  which  affords  a  still   clearer 
commentary  upon  that  in  the  Rhetoric  of  Aris- 
^^^^ •  totle. 

.    ,    *  See  Mr.  Foster's  Essay>  p.  23,  24,  25. 
^  Cic.  de  Or.  III.  57.  p.  417,  £d  Peara. 


\ 


a 


u 


NOTES.  t6i 

*otle.  —  **  Utendi    voce  multiplex    ratio.     Nam 
*'  prcBter  illam  differentiam  quxz  est  tripartita, 
*'  acuta,  gravis,  flex ce,— turn  intentis,  tum   re- 
missis — tum  elatis,  tum  inferioribus  modis,  opus 
est, — spatiis  quoque  lentioribus  aut  citatioribus. 
"  Sed  iis  ipsis   media   interjacent  multa^."     If 
tlie  reader  compares  this  with  the  passage  of  Aris- 
totle,  he  will  see  how  exactly  it  answers  to  the 
Greek.     Here  are  three  differences  of  voice  cor- 
res}K)nding   plainly  to    the  three   mentioned   by 
Aristotle.     The  difference  of  intentis  and  remissu, 
(loud  and  soft)   expresses  his  fi^tyxx^  xa»  /**x^j*; 
that  of,  elatis,  et  injerioribus  modis,  (acuter,  or 
graver,  tones  or  pitches,)  his  ogii*  xa»  ^x^na.;  and 
that  of  spatiis  lentioribus,  &c.  (quicker  or  slower 
times)  his  ^'uS^tAOif  tkt*,  &c.     And,  that  Quintilian 
did  not  understand,  by  ©Jn«  and  /3a/)n«,  the  acute 
and  grave  syllabic  accent,  is  clear  from  his  ex- 
pressly saying,  that  there  are  those  three  differ- 
ences   besides  that   of   the  different    accents  — 
**  prater  illam   differentiam,"  &c. — Lastly,  the 
"  media  interjacent  multa,"  plainly  alludes  to  tha 
{kiqiti  of  Aristotle. 

The  following  passage,  from  the  clear  and  ac- 
curate musical  treatise  of  Euclid,  will  serve  to 
illustrate,  at  the  same  time,  both  tlie  terms  of  Aris- 
totle, Tow*f  ^  and  jutfern.  Enumerating  the  different 
,  --_____^ acceptations 


s 

h 


II. 


Whenever    Aristotle   clearly  speaks  of-  accents,   he 
always,  as  far  as  1  have  observed,  uses  the  word  tt^oo-m^im, 

not 


aH 


NOTES, 

acceptations  of  the  word  rov®^,  one  of  wliicli  is 
Tdtfl-if,  tension  or  pitchy  his  instance  of  that  sense 

of  the  word,  is,  i  hy  «?  rao-if,  roy^  Taytrxi,  x«6*  o 
patfAiy  ofuTOj/itv  rtva,  ij  (3apureyf*v,  ?!  MEIXl*  TXii 
THX  ^aNH2  TONUt  xfp^^^crfa*:  i.e.  a  fniddiing 
pitch  oJvoice\ 

On  the  whole,  then,  I  see  no  reason  why  we 
should  not  understand  the  word  /Afo-w  to  ht  used 
in  the  same  sense  in  the  passage  which  is  the 
subject  of  this  note.  For  though,  indeed,  Aris- 
totle  is  there  speaking  of  single  letters,  and  there- 
foie  can  only  mean  syllabic  accents  or  tones,  yet 
it  is  plain,  that  these  accents  must  have  admitted 
of  the  distinction  of  high,  low,  and  intermediate^ 
even  in  single  zvords,  when  of  more  than  two 
syllables'";  much  more,  in  whole  ^T^/e/zce^  or /?e- 
riods,  where  what  Mr.  Foster  calls  the  oratarial 
accent,  f i^,  indeed,  it  be  compatible  with  a  Jlred 
syllabic  accentuation  of  single  words,  of  which  I 
profess  myself  not  yet  convinced,)^  must  neces- 
sarily 

not  TOW/.  See  the  passages  above  referred  to,  in  the 
treatise  De  SopL  Elench,    And,  in  thii  work,  cap.  xxv. 

'   P.  20,  ed.  Melb. 

^  Let  any  man  pronounce  a  word  of  many  syllables — 
^r/a>07rf?^£raTa,  for  example — having  one  acute  syllable, 
as  D.  Halic,  says,  among  many  grave — kv  7ro>:Naui  fixp/oif. 
Sect.  II.  He  will  hear  plainly,  if  he  has  any  ear,  that 
the  acute  syllable  is  only  the  acutest ;  and  that  the  grave 
syllables  are  of  different  degrees  of  elevation,  and  some 
of  them  of  course,  /uforoir-intermediate,  between  the  mou 
acute  and  the  most  grave. 


NOTES.  J67 

sarily  have  varied  the  tone  or  pitch  of  the  same 
nominal  syllabic  accent,  from  word  to  word. 

But  whatever  sense  of  the  word  /xf<r(^  we  adopt, 
there  is  a  difficulty,  in  this  passage,  which  I  must 
leave  as  I  find  it.  The  mention  of  toiie  or  pitch 
of  voice  here,  seems  to  me  to  be  strangely  mis- 
placed. Accent,  or  tone,  belongs  to  syllables,  not 
to  letters,  of  which  Aristotle  is  here  speaking. 
The  vowels,  indeed,  may  be  acute  or  grave ;  but 
as  syllables  making  a  part  of  words,  not  as  letters, 
separately  considered,  as  they  here  are.— Besides  ; 
the  other  differences  mentioned  are  fixed,  essential 
differences.  Of  these  letters,  he  says,  some  are 
formed  in  this  manner,  and  others,  in  that :  some 
are  aspirated,  and  others  smooth— some  long, 
others  short.  But,  can  it  be  said,  with  any  pro- 
priety, iliat  some  are  acute,  and  others  gra^e? 
Are  there  vowels  that  are  always  acute,  as  there 
are  vowels  that  are  always  long? — This  seems  not 
more  accurate,  than  it  would  be  to  conclude  an 
enumeration  of  Ihe  differences  of  zvords,  by  ad- 
ding that  some  are  said,  and  some  are  sung : or 

rather,  it  seems  just  the  same,  as  if  a  man,  de- 
scribing the  different  sorts  of  bricks  that  are  made, 
should  conclude  with  telling  us,  that  some  are 
'  put  at  the  top-  of  a  wall,  some  at  bottom,  and 
eome  in  the  middle. 


«M 


NOTES. 


NOTE    170. 
P.  163.      A  CONJUNCTION  IS  A  SOUND,  &C. 

Tlie  whole  of  this  first  definition  of  the  con- 
junction appears  to  me  to  be  corrupt  beyond  all 
hope  of  restoration  from  conjecture.  Mr.  Harris 
plainly  passes  it  over  as  inexplicable,  and  takes 
the  second  definition  only*.  I  may  well,  there- 
fore, be  excused  for  not  attempting  to  translate, 
what  I  confess  myself  totally  unable  to  compre- 
hend. I  do,  indeed,  understand  very  well,  that  a 
conjunction,  "  neither  hinders  nor  constitutes — 
"  neither  gives  nor  takes  away — the  meaning  of 
-"  the  sentence  in  which  it  stands."  But  how 
this  can  be  regarded  as  a  definition  of  a  conjunc- 
tion, I  do  not  understand.  To  define  a  thing 
only  by  what  it  does  not  do,  (for  it  is  hefe  given 
as  a  separate  and  complete  definition,)  is  hardly 
reconcileable  with  Aristotle's  logical  accuracy**. 
Dacier,  in  his  translation,  has  obviated  this  objeo^ 
tion,  by  uniting  the  two  definitions ;  but  without 
any  authority  from  the  text. 

I  must,  again,  confess,  that  what  follows,  about 

the  situation  of  the  conjunction  in  different  parts 

of  a  sentence,  has  not  been  made  intelligible  to 

nie, 

*  Hermes,  11.  2.  note  (a). 

^  See  Topic,  lib.  vi.  cap.  6.  Sect.  5. — where  he  repre- 
sents a  definition  as  vitious,  kav  amo<pouTti  ^lai^  to  yiv(B' — - 
i.  e,  if  the  specific  difference  be  expressed  by  a  negation. 
He  excepts  the  definition  o^  mere  privations^  (jxi  blindness y) 
which  can  be  ^jeiined  no  odierwisc.  Sect.  7. 


NOTES.'  ^69 

«ic,  by  any  explication  I  have  seen ;  particularly, 
the  expression,  xa9'  aurw,  which  M.  Batteux, 
after  Castelvetro,  renders,  "  by  its  nature  T--^''  k 
"  moins  que  par  elle-minie  elk  ne  soitfaite  pour 
**  6tre  au  commencement."  But  this  sense  can- 
not  be  admitted ;  nor,  I  think,  any  other,  than— 
"  by  itself— aloncr    This   Mr.  Winstanley  ex- 

1*19 

plains  by  otyiM  dyrociroioimai :  but  I  capnot  see  how 
his  translation—"  modo  eas  conjunctiones  exci- 
*'  pias  quoB  in  initio  periodi,  xxV  auT«f,— rit^  stare 
"  non  possunt/'  &c.  — accords  with  Aristotle  3 
words— ^V  fxn  i^u.0TTi}  ly  <i^^^  Xoya  nhyoci  xaj' 
•UT4I/— i.  e.  "  u7U€ss  they  are  such  as  should  be 
*'  placed  in  the  beginning,  by  themselves.' —To 
make  these  words  correspond  to  Mr.  Winstanley 's 
version,  another  negative  seems  waDting. 

V 

NOTE  171. 

P.  163.      An    article marks   the 

BEGINNING,    OR   THE    END    OF    A    SENTENCE. 

The  commentators  all  tell  us,  that  this  means 
the  prepositive,  and  die  subjunctive  article;  but 
none  of  them  have  clearly  and  fairly  shewn  us, 
how  the  one,  because  it  is  placed  before  a  uvrd, 
marks  the^  beginning  of  a  sentence  or  discoursei 
(Aoror  «>;<;«;)  or,  how  tlie  other  marks  the 
end  of  it,  because  it  follows  the  xvord  to  which  it 
belongs.  In  the  very  sentence  before  us,  for 
example,  A^^oy  h  in  tpmn,  «V.i;u©'  'H  Xoys  a^^y,, 
n  TiA<^,  »'  iip^KTiAoy,  inXot—in  what  sense  does  the 

subjunctive 


f   i) 

f        I 

f 


€i 


tt 


270  NOTES. 

subjunctive  article,  1?,  mark  the  end  of  the  sen- 
tence— rsx^  Xoyu  ?  "  L  article  subjonctif,"  say3 
Dacier,  **  est  celui  qui  marque  la  fin  du  discours' 

dest'h-dire,  qu'il   suit   la   chose  quit  designee 

comme,  quif  leqiiciy — It  is  easy  to  explain 
things  in  this  manner. 

For  my  part,  I  see  not  what  is  to  be  made  of 
this,  unless  we  may  understand  Aristotle  to  mean 
only  that  power  of  the  article,  by  which,  in  the 
Greek  language,  it  distinguishes  the  subject  from 
the  predicate,  in  certain  propositions,  and  deter- 
mines the  (7rfifer  of  construction.  See  Hermes,  II.  1. 
p.  230. — But,  then,  this  is  no  other  than  a  species 
of  ^Jo^KTju®^,  and  is,  indeed,  given  by  Mr.  Harris 
as  one  example  of  the  definitive  or  ascertaining 
power  of  the  article* 

The  second  definition  of  the  article,   ( — ^uvn 

atrnfA^ to  <r\ivriii(riai)  I  have  omitted.      It 

is  the  first  definition  of  the  conjunction  repeated 
verbatim.  It  may,  indeed,  be  true  of  both  ;  but 
if  so,  it  must  inevitably  follow,  I  think,  either  that 
the  two  things  must  be  the  same,  or,  that  the 
words  are  not  truly  a  defnition  of  either.  Yet 
this  passes  smoothly  with  all  the  commentators  I 
have  seen,  except  Madius  and  Piccolomini. 

NOTE  172. 
P.  163.     For  even  in  double  w^ords,  &c. 

Compare  cap.  ii.  and  iv.  of  Aristotle  s  treatise, 

Ilift  'EgfATivsia;.     This  is  rendered  by  Piccolomini, 

<  w  ith 


NOTES.  ty^ 

with  his  usual  accuracy,  "  perochfe  nei  nomi 
''  doppij  [6  ver  composti]  non  usiamo  le  parti 
"  d'essi,  secondo  che,  da  per  se  prese,  hanno  signi- 
^  Jicatione:  come,  (per  essempio)  in  questonome 
"  Theodoro,  quella  parte  (doro)  non  6  signifi- 
"  cante."  p.  286. 


iC 


u 


€( 


NOTE    173, 

P.  163.      Indication    of    time    is    not 

INCLUDED,    &c. — 

'Ov  npOSSHMAlNEI  to  Tron.  See  Hermes,  I.  6. 
note  (dX  p.  96.  Aristotle  has  given  a  fiiller  de- 
finition  of  the  verb,  in  the  book  ^ip*  '£/)/..  cap.iii. 

NOTE     174. 

P.  164.     Others   relate    to   action    oe 

PRONUNCIATION  -  -  -, 

*H  h,  x»rx  T«  uVflXf.THca— sc.  (TxniAtira :  mean* 
ing  the  <rxni*»r»  Xtfiwf  mentioned  just  before, 
cap.  xix.  with  which  these  modes  plainly  coincide! 
for  the  wTurut  tv{*aTuv  here  mentioned  are  no 
other  than  the  'Eyx\,&tK,  7nodes,  or  moods,  of  the 
Grammarians.— [See  Hermes,  I.  8.  p.  144,  and 
particularly  the  notes  there.]  K«,  x*r«  iro.If  iy- 
xAi«if,  i,  in  r,m  nTilZEir  PHMATIKA2  xaXso-,. 
Dim.  Hal.  de  Struct.  &c.  Sect.  6.- But  he  speaks 
of  the  term  as  applied  only  to  the  modes ;  for  the 
tenses,  Aa^op*.  xf'fut,  are  immediately  after  men- 
tioned by  him,  as  not  included  in  that  term.     But 

Amtotle, 


«7t  NOTES. 

Aristotle,  in  the  inpi  IpfAnv,  expressly  mentions  the 
'  femes  q\so,  as  tttwctik  pn/Aarwy.  See  cap,  iii.  Sect.,^. 

NOTE   175. 

P.  164-5.  For  all  discourse  is  not  com- 
posed OF  Verbs  and  Nouns:— the  defi- 
nition   OF   MAN,    FOR   INSTANCE . 

• — 'Ou  yoLp  aTTflt?  Aoy^   ix    pn/xarajv    xat    oyofAOCTUV 

lu^ru  pfifAXTuy  tUoii.  Xoyov,  This  is  very  ambiguously 
expressed.  We  are  left  to  make  out,  as  well  as 
we  can,  whether  the  "  definition  of  man,"  is  re- 
ferred to  as  an  instance  of  a  sentence  without  a 
verb,  or  of  a  sentence  with  both  noun  and  verb. — 
The  construction  seems,  indeed,  to  lead  more  na- 
turally to  the  latter  interpretation.  But  the  other, 
I  think,  is  more  to  Aristotle*s  purpose,  (for,  an 
example  of  a  sentence  with  both  noun  and  verb, 
it  was  hardly  necessary  to  produce,)  and  is  con* 
firmed  by  the  following  passage  in  hb  book  Tnpk 

A»ayxti  h  TTccyTA  \oyoy  uvofa^rixoif   (every  asser- 
five  sentence  or   speech)    U  /f»!/x«T©*   flvai,  u'  U 

TTTUfftuf    pr/x«T(^  *     xai    ytt^   0    ra    d^d^uTr^     >^oy^ 

(i.e.  o^io-fA^,  definition ;  for  so  Xoy(^  is  continually 
used    by  Aristotle,)  Uy  fA.n  to,  Inv,  ti,  ir«i,  if  n 

roiisrov  nPO2)TE0Hi,  kVm  Aoy0-  mVe^avTiX^*.   The 

definition  itself,  (the  same,  probably,  to  which  he 

alludes 

•  P.  38.  c. 


NOTES.  273 

alludes  in  the  passage  before  us,)  follows;  it  is^ 
^uoK  Tf^ou  ^iTTHv  \  Now  thcsc  tkrce  words  alone 
constitute  the  defmition,  and  it  is  of  this  only  that 
Aristotle  here  speaks.  In  the  full,  assertive  sen- 
tence, Ak6^a;7r(^  In  fwoi/  TTi^ov    SiTnty,    the    twO    first 

words  are  no  part  of  the  definition  itself,  but,  as 
Victorius  has  well  observed,  only  indicate  the 
thing  defined.  And  accordingly,  the  philosopher, 
we  see,  in  the  above  quotation,  considers  the  verb 
as  superadded  to  the  definition. 

However,  this  sense  would  be  so  much  more 
clearly  expressed,  if  the  words— oiov,  0  m  dyi^uiTra 
i^itrfx^ — followed,  instead  of  preceding,  the  words 

«XA   Uh^iroti  dyiv  ptj/xarwy  sUai  Aoyov,  that  I  should 

hardly  doubt  of  their  being  misplaced,  if  this  sort 
of  embarrassment  were  less  frequent  than  it  is  in 
Aristotle's  writings. 

This  whole  passage  receives  much  illustration 
from  thajt  part  of  tlie  treatise  irf^ »  1^^.  to  which 
I  have  referred.  A  sentence  without  a  verb  is 
what  Aristotle  calls  a  significant  sentence,  but  not 
an  assertive  sentence,  or  proposition:  i.e.  that 
affirms  or  denies  something,  and  of  which  it  may 
be  predicated,  that  it  is  true,  or  fdse\  Such 
only,  in  that  logical  work,  it  was  to  his  purpose 
to   consider;   the  other,   the   merely  significant 

sentence, 

*•  The  same  definition  occurs  in  other  parts   of  his 
works;  vol.  i.  p.  167,  B.— 237,  D.— vol.ii.  920,  92?, 

*  See  cap.  iv.  sect.  4  and  5.  p.  38. 

VpL.  ir.  T 


174  NOTES. 

sentence  ^  he  dismisses,  as  belonging  rather  to 
rhetoric  and  poetry.  '0»  fxiv  iy  ixxoi  \>^9yoi\^ 
^<p£KrOw<rak*  ^nro^iyLVii  y»^,  t  IIOIHTIKHS,    olnnoTt^x 

NOTE    176. 

P.  165.  Significant,  as  thk  woud  CleoiT 
IS,  &c.  -  -  - 

It  has  been  observed,  that  the  sense  seemed  to 
require  an  instance  of  a  sentence  with  only  otie 
significant  word  ;  at  least,  not  composed  of  both 
verb  and  noun,  as  (ix$^^ts  Kx^uu  is.  But  I  rather 
believe,  that  Aristotle  did  not  ifitend  this  as  aii 
instance  of  such  a  sentence,  but  merely  as  an  ex- 
planation of  the  &n[Monvtiy  and  xaV  acvrx  (rnfAAiyn  ti, 
that  precede.  **  It  is  not,"  says  he,  "  essential 
"  to  wbat  I  call  Xoy(^,  oratio,  that  it  should  con- 
"  tain  both  a  noun  and  a  verb,  i.  e.  that  it  should 
"  be  a  complete  proposition  :  but  some  significant 
part  it  must  have;  significant,  I  mean,  as  a 
whole  word,  separately  taken,  as  Clcon  is,  for 
example,  in  the  sentence,  Cleon  walks;  not  as 
making  a  part  of  a  word^  like  ^u^oy  in  the  com- 
pound  name  Gio^upoy,    which   has,  indeed,  a 

meaning,    but  not  naO'    auro  —  xi^upi<r[M£yoy — bj^ 

itself— dih  a  word  in  the  sentence." 

That 


it 

a 
n 

it 
a 
a 

it 


^  He   instances  in  precatory  sentences  or  speeches  ;- 
"^  Ibid. 


NOTES.  ay^ 

That  this  is  the  meaning,  seems  probable  from 

the  chapter  in  which  Aoy^  is  defined  in  the  book 

iTifi  Epfxfiynx^,     For  there,  as  soon  as  he  has  given 

the  definition,  {Aoy<^  ^  gV»  (pmn  (nj/taj/Tixn „V 

T«v  fAipuy  TI  (rnfMxyrixoy  In   KEXX2PIXMENON,)  he 

immediately  proceeds  to  explain  the  expressions  ; 
declaring  what  sort  of  significant  part  he  means. 
*'  Significant,"  he  says,  "  as  the  zvord  «\9^w9r(^  is; 
"  that  is,  x£x,io^i(r(xtyov,  by  itself -^  not  as,  ai/QpwTr®*^ 
'*  iV»,  or  ax  sVs  which  signify  as  assertive  sentences, 
"  nor  yet,  as  a  syllable,  or  part  of  a  simple  word^ 

(like  uV  in  ^uf,)  or,  even  as  a  xvord  makinst 
'  part  of  a  compound  word  *." 

Now,  what  Ari3totle  there  expresses  fully,  he 
meant,  I  think,  to  say,  more  briefly,  in  the  words, 

HEPOS  lAivroh  an  TI  irnfMxivoy  l^n  '  o^oy  iy  tw,  Bxii^H 
KAfwv,  0  K\tuy,  [sc.  cnfAaiyn.] 

See  Hermes,  I.  2.  p.  21,  note  (d). 


NOTE    177. 

P.    165.       A     DISCOURSE    MAY     BE     ONE,     IN 
TWO    SENSES,  &C. 

Compare,  vipi  EpiM^v,  cap,  v.  p.  38.  — Analyt. 
Post,  lib.il  cap.  10.  p.  169,  E.— Metaphys.  VII.  4. 
/?.  910,  D.  (where  he  uses  tw  <njyi)^(i,  as  equivalent 
to  crvy^a-iAu)  and  VIII.  6.  p.  931,  C. 

*  Cap.iv.  p.  38. 


T  2 


IH 


276 


NOTES. 


KOTE    178. 

P.  165.  Like  many  of  those  used  by  th? 

MEGALIOTiE . 

I  have  read,  in  some  ludicrous  book,  of  a 
country  that  was  "  bst  by  the  igmi^ance  of  geo- 
"  graphersJ'  This  seems  to  have  been  the  case 
of  these  Megaliotce^  if  such  a  people  ever  existed. 
They  are  nowhere  recorded.  —  Dacier  reads, 
^fy^tji^okTWk — '^  ceux  qui  disent  de  grandes  choses: 
and  cites  Hesychius — Miya^i^omc  —  jwiyaXa  xe- 
yo^Tif.  But  this  is  100  distant  from  the  present 
reading,  MsyaXiwrwy.  Mr.  Winstanley's  conjec- 
ture— /xiy«A«iw^,  «c  *,  is  somewhat  nearer,  and,  in 
other  respects,  preferable :  but  it  is,  1  think,  a 
strong  presumption  against  its  truth,  that  Aristotle 
constantly  uses  oioi>,  when  he  gives  an  instance ; 
never,  as  far  as  I  recollect,  «?. 

I  have  sometimes  thought  it  not  very  improbable, 
that  the  passage  might  originally  have  stood  thus : 
T«v  fAiyaXA  AiwKONtwv  :  i.  e.  of  those  who  affect^ 
aim  aty  aiefond  of,  grandeur  and  pomp  of  ex- 
pression; who  love  hard  words,  as  we  say. 
Nothing  more  conmion  than  this  sense  of  ^i^xn^. 
They  who  are  versed  in  emendatory  criticism,  and 
the  theory  of  transcriptive  blunders,  know  it  to 
have  been  one  source  of  corruption  in  antient 
manuscripts,  that  the  transcribers,  when  they  found 

vacuities 

*  Ed.  Ox.  1780,  p.  298. 


NOTES.  277 

vacuities  and  lacunce  which  they  could  not  fill  up, 
rather  than  reduce  the  price  of  their  copy  by  visible 
imperfection,  often  chose  to  write  the  passage  as 
if  there  had  been  no  such  chasms;  especially 
when  that  could  be  done,  as  in  this  case,  with  some 
passable  appearance  of  a  meaning  ^  And  thus, 
here,  if  we  suppose  the  letters  I  have  distinguished 
by  capitals  to  have  been  destroyed,  or  rendered 
illegible,  in  the  original  MS.  uVo  yonu^  xai  fnnuy  % 
they  would  leave  exactly  the  letters  we  now 
have — /x«yaX**i«***T«v. 

If  a  commentator,  harassed  by  obscurity  and 
perplexity,  can  now  and  then  relieve  his  labour  by 
treating  a  passage  of  desperate  corruption  as  a 
riddle,  and  can  amuse  himself  by  guessing  the 
meaning,  when  he  cannot  inform  his  readers  by 
discovering  it,  who  will  envy  him  this  harmless 
privilege  f  I  have  here  hazarded  my  guess  with 
others ;  but  I  give  it  for  what  it  is.     None  of  us, 
I  believe,  have  yet  deprived  our  successors  of  the 
same  amusement.     The   riddle,   probably,   still 
remains,  and  will  remain,  till  the  arrival  of  those 
"  codices  expect andi "  of  which  the  critics  talk  so 
much ;  those  precious  manuscripts,  that  are  always 
to  be  waited  for,  and  never  to  be  expected, 

»>  See  Lc  Clerc's   Jrs  Critlca,  P.  III.  S.  1.  C.X VI. 

farag.  7. 

•  See  the  passage  from  Strabo,  given  in  the  preface. 


^ 
4 


r 

9 


T  3 


m 


/ 


278 


NOTES. 


NOTE    179. 

P.  165.   By  common  words,  i  mean,  &c. -- 

Kupiov. — I  have  translated  this,  common^  not 
propcTy  because  this  last  term  would  convey  a 
wrong  idea ;  for  xu^toy  here  is  plainly  opposed,  not 
to  /xftafof a  only,  but  to  all  the  other  species  of 
words  just  enumerated :  not  to  what  is  Jigur at  he 
only,  as  the  Latin  proprium  is,  but  to  whatever  is 
unusual.  This  appears  indeed  from  the  defini- 
tion— "  a  word  that  every  body  uses.''  What  we 
call  proper  words  are  only  one  sort  of  the  xuj i* 
ovofMaroc  of  Aristotle.  The  expression  must  even 
include  all  those  words,  which,  though  originally 
metaphorical,  are,  as  Mr.  Harris  says,  "  so  natu- 
**  ralized  "  by  common  use,  "  that  ceasing  to  be 
^^  metaphors,  they  are  become,  (as  it  were,)  the 
*'  proper  words  *."  That  is,  as  an  excellent  writer 
has  expressed  it,  "  they  have  nothing  of  the  effect 
"  of  metaphor  upon  the  hearer.  On  the  contrary, 
like  proper  terms,  they  suggest  directly  to  his 
mind,  without  the  intervention  of  any  image, 
the  ideas  which  the  speeiker  proposed  to  convey 
"  by  them  V 

The  same  clear  opposition  of  xu^tov  to  whatever 
is  uncommon  in  speech  appears  throughout  the  next 

chapter, 

*  FhtL  Irtq.  p.  1 98.  He  gives  for  instances — the  foot 
of  a  mountain — the  bed  of  a  river.  He,  also,  has  ren- 
dered wfiov  by  common f  p.  191,  note, 

^  P kilos,  of  Rhet.  vol.  ii.  p.  185,  186.  See  Demet. 
IlEft  Ef/i>ivEiaj,*Sect.  88. 


€i 


it 


ic 


NOTES.  279 

chapter,  where  yXwrra,  fxirxtpo^x,  &c.  are  all  said 
to  be  IIAPA  TO  xu^iov,  and  included  under  one 
common  term  of  ^my.x. — See  also  Rhet.  HI.  2, 
p.  585,  A.    , 

NOTE    180. 

P.  166.       So  THAT  THE  SAME  WORD  MAY  BE 
BOTH  COMMON   AND  FOREIGN,  &C. 

If  xu^tov  here  meant  only  native^  in  opposition 
io  foreign,  (yAwrra)  as  some  commentators  have 
supposed  *,  it  would  be  arrant  trifling  to  observe, 
that  the  same  word  might  be,  at  the  same  time,^ 
yXwTTa  and  xupjop,  i.  e.  foreign  and  native,  to  dif- 
ferent nations.  For  it  could  not  possibly  be 
otherwise;  as  Robortelli  observes,  and  calls  the 
observation,  which  he  explains  as  Aristotle's, 
"  magnoperh  adnotandum,  et  pulchrum  scitu." 
p\  246.  Dacier  follows  him :  **  Cela  ne  sgauroit 
'^  Hre  autremcnt,  le  m^me  mot  qui  est  etranger^ 
"  pour  celui  qui  Temprunte,  nepeut  qu'itre  propre 
"  pour  celui  qui  le  prater — But,  if  it  utmst  be  so, 
why  does  Aristotle  say  it  may  be  so?  —  fi%!zi 
hyoLtoy  ? — The  truth  is,  that  ^.  foreign  word  is  not 
necessarily  a  common  word,  in  his  sense  of  xu^ie>, 
among  the  people  to  whom  it  is  native ;  it  may,  or 
may  not,  be  so;  it  cannot,  indeed,  be  to  them 
yXwTTOf,  but  it  may  be  a  metaphorical  word,  or  a 
word  of  any  of  the  other  species  enumerated  as 
nAPA  TO  xufiov  \ — Aristotle  seems  to  have  added 

this 

*  Robortelli,  and  Castelvetro  after  him.     ^  Cap.  xx\\% 

T  4 


m 


a8o  NOTES. 

this  observation  on  purpose  to  prevent  the  very 
mistake  which  tliese  expositors  have  made  :  td 
prevent  xuptov  from  being  taken  merely  as  the  op- 
posite to  y^wTTOf, 

NOTE    181. 

p.  166.     A   THOUSAND    IS   A    CERTAIN    DEFI- 
NITE   3IANY. 

To  ya,^  fAUftov,  ttoAu  Ir*. — Here,  I  may  venture, 
I  believe,  for  once,  to  adopt  the  positive  tone  of 
emendatory  criticism.  Legendum  omnindy  voXv  TI 
In.  The  sense,  indeed,  no  one  can  mistake :  but 
the  text,  as  it  stands,  does  not  express  that  sense. 
It  says  only,  "  for  a  thousand  is  many,  which  he 
*'  now  uses  instead  of  manyr  There  can  be  no 
doubt,  that  Aristotle  added  TI  here,  as  in  all  the 
other  instances,  sVava*  TI — ipiKnv  TI.  But,  to  put 
the  matter  beyond  all  doubt,  he  afterwards,  speak- 
ing of  the  same  sort  of  metaphor,  says,  to  yap 

IlakT^f    ai/T*   T8  IIoAAot,   x«t«  fAt7»^o^ccv,  ilfrrxi'    ro 

yx^  riav,  nOAT  TI.  Cap,  xxv. — I  am  surprised  that 
so  very  obvious  an  error  should  have  escaped  the 
notice  of  all  the  commentators  I  am  acquainted 
with. 

NOTE  182. 
P.  167.  For  here,  the  Poet  uses  Ta/A«i^--i 

INSTEAD   OF  afi;(ra«,  &C. 

Here  a  commentator  is  not  perplexed  by  a  little 

glimmering  of  light,  that  promises  to  shew  him 

7  something, 


NOTES.  a«| 

something,  and  shews  him  nothing;  but  is  relieved 
at  once  from  all  trouble  by  a  total  and  comfortable 
obscurity.  The  quotations  are  so  short,  and,  in  all 
probability,  so  incorrect,  tliat  it  seems  impossible  to 
apply  to  them  Aristotle's  definition  of  this  meta- 
phor, or  to  see  how,  where  the  Poet  has  used  nxfAttv, 
dov(ron  would  have  been  the  proper  word,  and  vice 
versa.  Yet  the  commentators  slide  over  this  diffi- 
culty. Victorius,  however,  has  noticed  it,  and, 
giving  up  the  quotations  as  inexplicable  and  incor- 
rigible, proposes  a  more  intelligible  example  from 

the  Rhetoric,  HI.  2. — ro  qxxycn,  roy  /aiv  TrritjytMQyrot^ 
lu;i^f(rSai '     roy    h    tu)(^ofA£yoy,    ?rTw;^fu«v  •     on    ctfAipca 

ctlrfiTug.  Dacier  has  entirely  omitted  the  passage, 
and  substituted  another  from  the  Rhet.  HI.  11. 
p.  597,  B. — Not,  however,  that  he  did  not  under- 
stand the  passage ;  it  was  an  inviolable  rule  with 
him  always  to  understand  his  author :  but  only,  it 
seems,  because  the  example  could  not  conveniently 
be  expressed  in  French — "  il  ne  pent  fitre  traduit 
*^en  ndtre  langue." 

Castelvetro  gives  a  very  pleasant  illustration. 
He  does  not  pretend  to  see  how  rocfxttv  and  ajuo-ai 
are  put  for  each  other  in  the  Greek  examples  :  but 
he  says,  that,  to  draw,  and  to  cut  off^  might  be 
thus  metaphorically  put  for  each  other;  if,  for 
example,  \^  e  should  say,  "  Take  this  pruning-hook, 
''  and  draw  some  branches  from  the  olive-tree; 
^^  or,  Take  this  pail,  and  cut  off  some  water  from 

"  the 


•f\ 


-I 


jS2  n   o    t   e    s. 

*'  the  fountain*."  —  Undoubtedly  any  man  may 
speak  in  this  way,  who  chuses  it. 

NOTE  183. 
P.  167.  In  the  way  of  analogy,  when,  of 

FOUR   TERMS,  &C. 

The  difficulty  here  is,  to  distinguish  clearly  this, 
which  Aristotle  calls  the  analogical  or  proportional 
metaphor y  from  the  metaphor  which  precedes  it — 
that  from  species  to  species :  for  as  to  the  two  first 
sorts,  that  from  genus  to  species,  and  vice  versA, 
they  plainly  belong,  as  has  been  observed,  to  the 
trope  since  denominated  Synecdoche-,  the  word 
f*fTi»(popa  being  clearly  used  by  Aristotle  in  its  most 
general  sense,  including  all  the  tropes — all  the  ways 
in  which  a  word  is  transferred  to  a  meaning  dif- 
ferent from  its  proper  meaning.  See  Cic.  Or. 
cap.  xxvii.  Of  the  four  species  of  iA$Ta(po^oci  here 
mentioned,  only  the  two  last  seem  to  answer  to 
our  METAPHOR — the  metaphor  founded  on  some 
resemblance  between  the  thing  from  which,  and 
that  to  which,  the  term  is  transferred. 

The  difference  between  these  two  sorts  of  me* 
tapliors,  as  far  as  I  am  able  to  comprehend  it, 
appears  to  me  to  be  only  this.  Each  of  them  is 
founded  on  some  resemblance;  but  in  the  first, 
the  resemblance  perceived  is  between  the  two 

things 

*  '^  Prendi  quella  falce,  c  attlgnt  de'rami  dell'  ullvo ; 
'*  o  vero,  Prendi  .quella  sccchia,  e  taglia  dell'  acqua  del 


<( 


foole. 


»> 


P-  4S3« 


NOTES, 


283 


tilings  themselves ;  in  the  other,  between  the  re- 
latians  which  they,  respectively,  bear  to  two  other 
things  *.  Those  are  metaphors  aV  £*7a?  im  il$©^^ 
where  the  likeness  is  perceived,  as  Aristotle  else- 
where expresses  it,  "  by  the  genus  f  that  is,  where 
the  commmi  quality,  which  constitutes  the  likeness^ 
immediately  occurs,  and  it  is,  therefore,  sufficient 
simply  to  substitute  the  one  word  for  the  other. 
Those  are  metaphors  xar'  ivxXoyioLy,  where  the 
resemblance  is  not  thus  perceived  by  the  common 
quality y  but  by  the  common  relation,  of  the  two 
things;  where,  therefore,  that  relation  must  be 
pointed  out,  more  or  less  expressly.  Thus,  to  take 
Aristotle's  own  examples,  when  old  age,  or  rather, 
an  old  num,  is  called  ''  stubble,''  the  resemblance  is 
sufficiently  perceived,  by  a  comparison  of  the  thintrs 
themselves ;  in  Aristotle's  language,  we  perceive  it, 

"  by  the  genus: — iray  yocf  un-vi  ['0/xDp(^]  TO  ynpas 
KAAAMHN,   iiroina-s  fJi-a^Yitriif  xeci  yyu(nv  Sia,  t»  yiv^q* 

AMOn  ya^  AnHNGHKOTA  ^  But  when  old  age 
is  called  **  evening,''  what  strikes  us  is  the  resem- 
blance with  respect  to  two  other  things,  life,  and 
day ;  a  resemblance  of  relation, 

la 


*  ^  yof  ANAAOriA  iVoDjj  In  xoy«,  KAI  EN  TETTAP- 
SIN  EAAXlSTOiS.  i.  e.  *«  Analogy,  or  proportion,  is 
*'  equality  of  ratio,  or  relation,  and  requiies  four  terms  at 
**  leastr     Ethic.  Nicom.  V.  3. 

**  Rhet.  III.  10.  p.  593.  The  passage  of  Homer  alluded 
to  is  in  Od.  H.  214,  215.  See  Harris's  PhiloL  Inq. 
p.  191.  For  the  force  of  the  expression,  inomn  (AsAna-tf, 
•ce  NOTE  22.  in  vol.  i. 


r. 

I    A" 


284  NOTES. 

In  this  idea  of  the  analogical  metaphor  I  have 
the  concurrence  of  Piccolomini.  "  La  metafora 
*'  di  p7vportio?ie  h  quella,  che  sopra  la  somigUanza 
*^  del  rispetti  che  kanno  Vum  cose  con  ValtrCy  sari 
*'  Jondata ;"  &c.  See  his  annotations^  p.  305,  and 
his  clear  and  useful,  though  prolix,  Parafrase 
della  Retor.  d'Arist.  torn.  iii.  p.  52,  &c.  In  the 
rest  of  his  explanation  he  does  not  satisfy  me. 

NOTE    184. 

P.   167.     And,    sometimes,   the   proper 

TERM   IS   ALSO    INTRODUCED,    BESIDES    ITS    RE- 
LATIVE   TERM. 

No  words  can  well  be  more  obscure  and  perplex- 
ing. Taking  them  as  they  are,  they  seem  to  admit, 
fairly,  of  only  one  sense — that  which  Victorius 
gives  them.  "  Et  quandoque  apponunt,  pro  quo 
**  dicit  ad  quod  est.**  That  is,  as  he  explains  this 
literal  and  obscure  version,  they  add,  "  ad  quod 
"  rejertur  illud  nomen  quod  omittunt,  et  pro  quo 
**  aliud  vocabulum  usurpant.''  n^ortSfao-*,  yrfo^ 
i  ir*  [sc.  TBTo]  difi'  a  Xiyn  :  i.  e.  they  add,  to  the 
substituted  word  (cup),  the  word  to  which  the 
proper  word  (shield)  relates ;  i.  e.  Mars.  They 
not  only  name  cup,  instead  of  shield^  but  call  it 
the  cup  of  Mars. 

-  My  objection  to  this  sense  of  the  passage  is, 
that  it  seems  to  confound  the  analogical  metaphor 
with  that  from  species  to  species^  in  which  one 

word 


NOTES.  285 

word  is  simply  put  in  the  room  of  the  other,  as 
xocXotfAn  is  used  in  the  passage  of  Homer,  referred 
to  by  Aristotle  as  an  example  of  that  sort  of 
metaphor  * : 

AXX  B[jt>7ri/}g  ycotKotfiifiv  yt  O"  oiofixi  SKTOoocovroi 
Tivaa-icBiv.    -     -      -      -      -  .  -    Od.  f.  114. 

For  if,  "  sometimes,''  hiort,  this  addition  is  made, 
it  is  implied,  that  not  only  sometimes,  but  generally^ 
and  for  the  rmst  part,  the  analogical  metaphor  is 
used  in  the  same  manner  as  that  aV  i\h(;  &c.  and 
cup  is  merely  called  shield,  and  old  age,  evening. 
But,  if  I  understand  the  matter  rightly,  it  is 
essential  to  this  kind  of  metaphor  to  express  tivo 
terras,  at  least,  of  the  four  which  constitute  the 
analogy ;  i.  e,  to  express  mth  the  metaphorical 
word,  either  the  thing  to  which  the  proper  word 
belongs,  (as,  ecehhig  of  life,)  or,  as  Aristotle 
presently  after  says,'  a  negative  epithet.  See 
NOTE   189,  '  ~ 

And  the  philosoplier  himself  seems  to  have  said  / 
this,  (for  I  confess  the  passage  is  not  perfectly 
clear,)  in  the  following  words :  AIEI  yx^  EK  ATOIN 
Kiyovrxi  [sc.  a»  iiKovii,  Comparisons^,  nSIIEP  *H 
ANAAOrON  META^OPA-  iioy,  ij  a<r7r*?,  (po^t^i^y  Wi 
<>IAAH    APE02,  xai,    ro^ov,   ^OFMIFH  AXOPAOS* 

,*  He  does  not,  indeed,  expressly  call  it,  air  e/Jsj  btti 
aO^ ;  but  that  it  is  so,  seems  sufficiently  clear  from  his 
expressions,  l^oiiKrc  iMtl^y^a-iv  lia  ttt  TENOTS — and,  AM^Il 
ya^  aTrpfQnKOTa,  which  answers  to-  a^w  ya^  a(pi>^iv  ri 
hi,  here. 


Pi 


286  NOTES. 

iru)  fxsv  iJv  Xiyaa-iv,  OTX'   'AITAOTN*   to   i'  tWuu  ro 

Thus  "  capitis  nives^,''  for  gray  hairs  ;  evening  of 
life ;  7norning  of  the  year ;  eye  of  day ;  and.  among 
many  instances  in  the  lihetoricy   ^*i/a«  fotrocXoy — 

Xfifxv  rs  Utt^aieug — o$^  tuu  Xoyu9j  &C  ^, — The  fact, 

indeed,  seems  to  be,  that  this  analogical  metaphor 
is  only  a  way  of  stating  metaphors  founded  on  re- 
semblance*,  when  that  resemblance,  depending 
wholly,  or  chiefly,  on  relation,  would  not  be  obvious, 
and  the  metaphor,  consequently,  would  be  harsh 
and  obscure,  unless  the  relation  were,  by  some 
means  or  other,  pointed  out. — Victorius  himself 
allows,  that,  in  Aristotle's  own  examples,  the  mere 
substitution  of  ci/p  for  shield,  and  of  evening  for 
old  age,  would  be  "  nimis  durum'' 

♦  I  think, 


«*• 


^  Rhet.  III.  II.  p.  596,  E.  *  Quintil.  VIII.  6. 

^  Rhet.  III.  10.  —  Instances,  abound  in  Homer: — 
mox^  v»?©- — kQa^  af«fi?$ — TTOifUva  ?\aci}v — (TTr^ia  ttv^^ — 
a  seed  o{  fire ^  for  a  spark.  (Od.  E.  490.)  &c. — See  the 
Life  of  Homer,  commonly  attributed  to  Dion,  Halic,  and 
given  in  vol.  v.  of  the  ed.  of  Homer  by  Ernestus,  p.  162. 

♦  It  seems,  that  any  instance  of  the  metaphora  a 
specie  &c.  may  be  stated  analogically  :  thus,  '*  old  age,  we 
''  may  say,  is  to  man,  what  stubble  is  to  corn,'^  &c.  And, 
on  the  other  hand,  converting  an  analogical  metaphor 
into  a  metaphor  trom  species  to  species,  we  may  say, 
evening  and  old  age  are,  both  of  them,  ends  of  certain  por-^ 
tions  of  time* — It  was,  perhaps,  the  vicinity  of  these  two 
species  of  metaphor,  and  their  convertibility,  that  induced 
later  writers  to  drop  the  distinction,  though  they  mad« 
many  other  distinctions  which  Aristotle  did  not. 


NOTES.  287 

1  think,  then,  that  Aristotle  meant  to  say,  and, 
in  some  way  or  other,  had  said,  ''  And  sometimes^ ^ 
(fwoTi,)  now  and  then,  for  the  sake  of  clearness, 

"  they  add  the  proper  word,  (the  word,  a\6'  i 

^^  for  which,  the  metaphorical  word  is  put,)  to^ 
"  or  besides,  the  ^^o?  h  in—/,  e.  that  to  which  the 
*'  proper  word  relates:'  They  not  only  call  the 
shield,  the  cup  of  Mars,  but  they  mention  shield  ■ 
also,  and  say,  the  shield  is  the  cup  oi  Mars:  or, 
taking  the  other  instance,  old  age  is  the  evening  of 
Ife  \  Thus  all  will  follow  naturally :  KAI  Inon— 
And,  sometimes,  they  add  the  pi^oper  term,  &c. 
£woK  h,  HK  Inv  ovo/xa — dvocXoyoy, — But,  in  some 
analogical  metaphors,  there  is  no  proper  term  ;  in 
that  case,  therefore,  tlie  metaphor  cannot  be  so 
used :  yet  it  may  be  used  in  the  first,  and  most 
common  way,  as  well  as  if  such  proper  term  sub- 
sisted ;  it  is  still  an  aiialogictd  metaphor,  and  may 
be  used  as  such  \--^hy  ^ttov,  o>oiwff  [j.  e.  aj/aXoy«f, 
as  Castelvetro  rightly  explains  it,]  \iy}n<nTou^. 
Thus,  in  the  metaphor  exemplified,  of  sowins;, 
applied  to  the  sun,  we  may  say  the  sun  sows  his 
rays,  though  we  cannot  assign  any  proper  term, 
for  which  soivs  is  put — any  word  appropriated  td 
the  dispersion  of  light  from  the  sun,  as,  to  soxv,  is 
appropriated   to  the   dispersion  of  seed.  —  Such 

appears 

•  Thus  Homer  uses  the  analogical  metdphor  in  the 
following  line :  .. 

Ov^  m^i  e^£Tixa,  ra  tb  Trrt^a  vYivo-iTraonou,  Od.  A.  124. 
'      ''  Oars,  which  are  die  v.'ings  of  shipsj' 


NOTES. 

appears  to   vnt  to    be   the  connection  of   this 
passage. 

It  v^  ill,  undoubtedly,  be  objected,  that  the  sense 
I  would  give  the  words  fr^ofiii»<n  &c.  cannot  be 
fairly  obtained  from  them  as  they  now  stand :  and 
I  confess  it  cannot;  unless  we  might  be  allowed 
to  render  the  words  thus,  taking  v^o^  as  a  repeti- 
tion of  the  preposition  in  ir(o<rrittcc(r^9 :  ''  they  add 
"  the  word,  for  which  they  use,  or  saj/,  the  meta- 
**  phorical  word,  (ay9*  «  AEFEI,)  to  6  ESTI — to 
"  what  it  is — to  the  word  which  is  used:  they 
"  add  the  word  that  should  be  to  the  word  that 
^'  is.''  But  this  appears  to  me  so  harsh  and  im- 
probable a  construction,  that  I  would  rather  sup- 
pose the  passage  to  be  defective.  Perhaps  it 
might  originally  be  thus  : — Ka*  Ivion  v^oa-rii.  dpV 
a  \eyei,  IIAPA  [to]  w^oq  o  iV* — i.  e.  besides  adding 
the  thing  to  which  the  proper  term  relates  ^  But 
there  seems  to  be  still  another  fault  in  the  passage 
I  cannot  reconcile  the  plural  Tr^oo-rtSfao-ii/,  with  the 
singular,  hiyu.  Goulston  renders  "  apponitf  and 
I  am  surprised  that  no  MS.  should  exhibit  fr^otr^ 
T»9fi(riv.  That  Af-yEi  is  right,  is  highly  probable, 
from  the  singular  verb  i^ft,  repeatedly  used  here, 
and  the  tliTQiy  afterwards:  ^I  tuv  icni^x  Einoi — 

X.  T.  aXX, 


^  The  transcribers,  seeing  two  prepositions,  va^a  Tr^o^, 
unusually  put  together,  and  not  understanding  the  niative 
sense  of  ^rfoj  o,  might  reject  the  first  as  redundant. 


NOTES. 


289 


NOTE    185. 

P.  167.  The  shield,  the  cup  of  Mars,  &c. 
^locXfif,  A^fwf— .     The  (pisc\n  seems  to  have  been 
a  large,  expanded,  (Uwirc^Xov,)  kind  of  vessel,  like 
a  ewer.    See  //.  ^.  270,  and  the  notes.    Hesych.  v. 
A/x^ia£T(^.— It.had  also,  sometimes,  an  o>^aAof, 
or  umdo.     See  Athen.  p.  501.     It  had  probably, 
tlierefore,  some  resemblance  to  a  shield,   which 
makes  the  metaphor  appear  less  strange ;  as  Pic- 
colomini   has   remarked,   p.  306:    who  also  ob- 
serves, very  well,   that  this  kind  of  metaphor  is 
then  most  clear  and  perfect,  when  the  resemblance 
of  relation  is  aided  by  some  degree  of  resem- 
blance between  the  things  themselves:  and  that 
here,  for  example,  if  iarice  were  used  instead  of 
shield,  the  metaphor  would  be  spoiled,  though  the 
common  relation  would  still  subsist. 

This  seems  to  have  been  a  favourite  instance 
of  this  sort  of  metaphor ;  for  it  occurs  several 
times  in  the  Rhetoric.  See  III.  4.  p.  588,  and 
11.  p.  596,  E.  In  the  former  of  these  passages 
Aristotle  says,  that  an  analogical  metaphor  ought 
to  admit  of  inversion :  thus,  says  he,  if  we  may 
call  the  cup  the  shield  of  Bacchus,  we  may,  with 
equal  propriety,  call  the  sliield  the  cup  of  Mars^ 
But  Demetrius  observes,  alluding  to  that  passage 
of  the  Rhetoric,  that  this  is  not  the  case  of  every 
such  metaphor :  ivH  my  ivu^uoiy  fxiy  mq  Un^^  tto^x 

VOL.   II.  yj  ^  ij^^ 


290  NOTES. 

i'jruiPnoi.y  iWuv,  Sect,  79* 

NOTE    186. 

P.  167.  Or  as  Empedocles  has  ex- 
pressed IT,  Life's  setting  sun. 

Auo-/xaf  /3t8. — Victorius  has  pointed  out  this 
expression  in  Plato's  sixth  book  De  Le gibus ^ 
where  the  Athenian  says,  rV^^f  ^'  ^*'  ^wc/tAaK  tb  p«, 
Jt  ^£,  wV  'Tr^o(;  i!/x«f,  v£o**:  probably  alluding,  in 
Plato's  usual  manner,  to  the  very  passage  of  Em- 
pedocles.  See  also  iElian,  Var.  Hist.  II.  34. — 
fV*  Juc/xaj?  liTixiv:  where,  as  the  metaphor  was 
sufficiently  explained  by  the  subject  of  the  con- 
versation, the  word  |3i8  is  not  added.  Victorius 
remarks,  also,  the  (3i8  ATNTOS  n^yxK;  of  /Eschy- 
lus,  Jgamem.  v.  1132.  The  rest  of  that  passage 
is  very  obscure*';  but  this  e-xpression  seems, 
clearly  enough,  to  describe  the  dying  eye,  tjiat 
opens,  for  the  last  time,  upon  the  light : 

rig  iitoT  OLV^igy  uXXoc  vvv  'Travvg-ocTOv, 

Euiip.  J/ccst,  203, 

or; 


*  11.  B.  824. 

.    *  Ed.  Serr.  torn.  \\.p.  770. 

*  I  am  inclined  to  read,  and  point  the  passage  thus : 

...--•    aT£  Mtl  ^0^1  TTTWO^iMOTS 

kc.  «*  such  as  destroys,  dispatches  (as  wc  say,)  those  whcj 
«  fall  by  the  spear,  in  thi  last  gleams  of  setting  life'* 


NOTES  29, 

or;  in  the  finest  picture  of  the  kind,  I  tliink,  that 
Poetry  affords, 

" oculisque  errantibus,  alto 

Quaesivit  coelo  lucem,  ingemuitque  reperta* 

jEn.  IV,  691. 
—The  poetical  reader,  I  believe,  will  pardon  me, 
if  I  wander  so  much  farther  from  my  subject,  as 
to  take  occasion,  from  these  beautiful  passages, 
to  point  out  three  lines  of  Petrarch,  which  shew^ 
that  his  powers  were  not  confined  to  the  expres- 
sion of  amorous  tenderness,  but  were  capable  of 
rising,  on  occasion,  to  the  true  sublime.  In  the 
sonnet,  '' Sclammtar  augeUi:'  &c^  written  after 
the  death  of  Laura,  he  imagines  himself  to  hear 
her  voice,  in  his  solitude,  consoling  him  for  hia 
loss,  in  these  lines : 

Di  me  non  pianger  tu ;  ch'  i  miei  dl  fersi 
Morendo  eterni;  e,  nel  eterno  lume, 
Quando  mostrai  di  chiudtt  gli'  occhi,  apersi  !— 

NOTE    187. 

P-  167.  There  is  no  proper  analo- 
gous TERM,   &C. 

Oyo^x  nufAtyoK—KeifAiyov,  here,  is  equivalent  to 
xuf  tcv ;  a  word  established  bj/  common  usage.— En, 
il  MH  KEIMEN0I2    c.o^«^,    ^^^rx^^    o^oy'' UXccrJ, 

hs^ctrxioy,  Toy  o^pBxXfxoy. ^«,  y«^  ^Va^,^ 

TO    MH   £1X1002.— Topic.  VI.  2.   p.   242.— See 
also,  Categ.  c.  vii.  p.  23,  C. 

« 

f  Ed.  di  Gesualdo,  p.  288, 
U  2 


292 


NOTES. 


NOTE   188. 


p.  168. sowing  abroad 

His  heaven-created  flame. — 


Z?riif^v  flioxTir«v  ^Aoy«. — Part  of  an  Iambic 
verse,  and  probably  from  some  Tragic  Poet.  The 
commentators  quote  Virgil's  "  Spargebat  lumine 
"  terras."  This,  however,  is  not  exactly  appli- 
cable, because  spargere  does  not,  I  think,  appear 
to  have  been  the  proper,  specific  word,  for  sowingy 
as  ctrn^nv  was.  The  passage  of  Lucretius  is 
more  apposite : 

Sol  etiam  summo  de  vertice  dissupat  omnes 

Ardorem  in  partes,  et  lumine  conserit  area, 

II.  211. 

Every  reader  will  recollect  Milton's  beautiful  ap- 
plication of  this  metaphor  to  the  stars : 

And  sotivdvi\i\i  stars  the  heav'n,  thick  as  a  field. — 

P.  L.  VII.  358. 

—  and  to  the    dew-drops,    metaphorized    into 
pearls,  v.  1. 

But  the  idea  of  pourings  applied  to  the  great 
fountain  of  light,  seems  both  a  more  just,  and  a 
more  elevated,  metaphor.  It  is  happily  touched 
by  Virgil  in  this  line  : — 

Jam  sole  infuso,  jam  rebus  luce  retectis. 

^n,  IX.  461, 

• — 0.  sketch  which  Thomson  has  finely  filled  up, 
and  finished  : 

-  -  •  -  young 


NOTES.  293 

.young  dscy  pours  in  apBLCCy 

And  opens  all  the  laumij  prospect  wide  : 
The  dripping  rock,  the  mountain's  misty  top, 
Swell  on  the  sight,  and  brighten  with  the  dawn ; 
Blue,  thro'  the  dusk,  the  smoking  currents  shine. 

Summer,  52. 

In  his  hi/m?i,  he  has  taken  up  the  metaphor  in  a 
sublimer  tone : 

Great  source  of  day !  best  image  here  belov^ 

Of  thv  Creator,  ever  pouring  wide. 

From  world  to  worlds  thexital  ocean  round!  v.  66. 

— ^To  which  I  cannot  restrain  myself  from  adding 
a  fine  passage  of  the  same  kind  in  the  hymn  of 
Diont/sius  to  the  sun : 

Aktivu  TToXug^itpov  djjiTrXeKuv, 

AiyXug  ttoXu^b^zboc  *  riAFAN 

Ue^i  yociocv  uTracocv  sXi(r(ruv. 

nOTAMOI  Je  a-edev  nTPO£  AMBPOTOT 

TiKTHcriv  STTTjouTov  dcfjcsoixv. 


*  M.  Burette  prefers  Troxuxe^hay  a  reading  of  a  French 
MS.;  and  he  translates  it,  "  une  ric/ie  source."  He 
skou/d  have  said,  *^  a  cunning  source;"  for  I  do  not  believe 
there  is  good  authority  for  any  other  sense  of  vo>^s§^r}i. — 
See  M^m,  de  VAcad,  dts  Inscript.  tome  vii.  Dissert,  sur  la 
Melopee,  &cc. — The  reader  may  see  the  hymn,  at  the. 
end  of  the  Ox.  Jratus,  and  in  Dr.  Burney's  Hist,  of 
Music,  vol.  i.  p.  90,  with  a  translation.  There  is,  also, 
a  translation  in  Dodsley's  Miscellany,  vol.  v.  But,  how- 
ever partial  I  may  be  thought,  I  must  give  the  bays  on 
this  occasion  to  my  friend.  He  is  no  professed  Poet . 
but  his  version  has,  surely,  far  more  of  the  animation, 

enthusiasm, 

U3 


<*  #1 


294  NOTES. 

NOTE    189. 

P,  168.     The  wineless  cup.-    .    * 

Aomy,  This  emendation  of  Victorius,  (instead 
of  «AAa  olrdy  the  reading  of  all  the  editions  and 
MSS.)  seems  confirmed,  beyond  all  doubt,  by 
Rhet,  III.  6.  p.  590,  A.  and  11.  p.  597,  A. 

Metaphors,  from  tlieir  nature,  are  in  danger  of 
being  obscure,  or  forced,  though  it  is  essential  to 
their  beauty  and  effect,  that  they  should  be  clear 
and  apposite.  For  this  purpose,  a  metaphor  may 
be  guarded  in  various  ways.  If  the  simple  sub- 
stitution of  the  improper,  for  the  proper,  term, 
would  be  obscure,  or  harsh,  the  metaphor  may  be 
converted  into  an  image^  or  comparison  * ;  it  may 
be  used  analogically,  and  we  may  say,  ^iaXn 
APEOS,  or  (piaXii  AOINOS ;  or,  if  tliat  be  not  suf- 
ficient for  perspicuity — that  is,  if  the  meaning  be 
not  sufficiently  pointed  out  by  the  manner,  or 
circumstances,  in  which  the  expression  is  intro- 
duced, we  may  join  these,  (^iax?j  Af£©j  aoi^0*,) 
or  even  add  to  either  of  them  the  proper  word 

itself  \ 

There 

h  III     in   I  .11  ■!  I     ■■  I    I  ■  ■  III  I  ■■■■  I.  .« 

enthusiasm,  and  solemnity  of  the  original.  No  Persian, 
indeed,  could  have  entered  more  tlioroughiy  into  the 
spirit  of  solar  adoration. 

*  See  Demet.  Sect.  80.— And,  again,  Sect.  86,  of  the 
^negative  epithet  used  for  the  same  purpose. 

*  See  above,  note  184. 


NOTES.  295 

There  is  a  fine  instance  of  tiiis  negative  mode 
of  explaining  a  metaphor,  in  Isaiali,  li.  21.  "Thou 
*'  drunken,  but  not  with  wvwe*." 

The  same  end  is  often  answered  by  an  epithet, 
affirming  of  the  thing  expressed  some  quality  be- 
longing to  the  thing  signified]  tlius,  ships  are 
^'Jloating  bulwarks  V'  and  the  lyre  a  "  chorded 
shell,"  where  Dryden  has  made  the  same  use  of  the 
affirmative  epithet,  chorded,  that  Theognis  did  of 
the  negative,  ax°f<^^?  ^^  ^^Js  metaphorical  expres- 
sion for  a  bow — (po^fjuyj^  d^o^^^^  Sometimes 
the  explanatory  epithet  is  itself  a  metaphor;  as 
m  the  wTs^uiTotg  ti^iAX(ri  of  Euripides; — "  wi?fged 
"  chariots."  Here  we  have  a  double  metaphor; 
chariot  for  ship,  and  wing  for  sail. 

It  should  be  remembered,  that  these  negative 
epithets  are  very  common  in  the  Greek  Poets. 
Victorius   points  out   many  instances :   as   xw/aov 

*\auAoTJfcToi/,  Eurip.  Phceniss,  818. — fltatrov  a|3«x- 
X«UTOj/,    Orest.   319.— juuj/UTTj^gH    a>9fyxT8,    ^sch. 

humen,  245. — aVrf^otf  7r«T7i/Aa(r*v,  ibid.  230,  &c 

NOTE    190. 
p.   168.       -   -   -   AN   INVENTED  WORD,  &C. 

Between  this  and  the  preceding  definition  Aristotle 
must  have  placed  that  of  Ko(r/A(^ — the  ornament ^ 
or  ornamental  word.   That  it  was  purposely  passed 

over 

*  See  Bp.  Lowth's  Comm.  on  Isaiah. 

""  Mr.  Mason's  Ode  to  the  Naval  Officers. 

^  Demet.  Sect.  86.— Arist.  Rhet.III.  11.  p.  597. 

U4 


fc 


296  NOTES. 

over  by  him  is  hardly  credible.  This  is,  most 
probably,  one  of  the  lamentable  iix(i^u)fAar»  that 
Strabo  talks  of*. 

The  commentators  differ  widely  as  to  the 
meaning  of  xco-^a^.  Castelvetro  says,  the  word 
admits,  here,  of  five  difterent  senses,  which  he 
sets  up,  like  nine-pins,  for  tlie  pleasure  of  knocking 
them  all  down. — Tiie  only  reasonable  account  of 
the  matter  seems  to  be  that  given  by  Dacier  from 
Victorias.  It  seems  clear  enough,  that  what 
Aristotle  here  calls  xjo-^^*,  is  included,  at  least, 
under  what  he  cedls  olynkoy  in  the  Rhetoric.  For 
he  says,  at  the  end  of  the  next  chapter  {cap.  xxii.) 
speaking  of  those  species  of  xvords  that  are  used  in 
prose,  that  they  are  these  three,  to  xu^*ev,  >ww  /uira- 
f  o^a,  xai  KOSMOX :  and  in  the  Rhetoric,  after 
referring  to  the  very  enumeration  of  words  in  this 
chapter,  and  setting  aside  such  as  he  calls  poetical, 
(i.  e.  yAwTTflt*,  $iv\x  oyofjuxra,  3cc.)  he  says,   TO  (Tf 

xu^iok,  xai  TO  OIKEION,  xa»  iJt,ira(po^xi,  fxayon  Xf*"*- 
fAOk  TT^of  Tfiy  T«i>  4/*Awk  Xoy(a¥  Ai^ik*  TrxvTig  yx^ 
fASTx^o^m^   fixXtyoyrxt,   xai  tok  OIKEIOIS,    xje<  to»9 

xvfioig  \  And  these  9lx,ux  oyofAxrx,  again,  seem 
plainly  synonymous  with  iTnierxy  mentioned  pre- 
sently  after : — Sn    Ji    hxi   ra    iVkitTX   xa*   rxg    jus- 

T«^.  X.  t.  X. — By  oixfiflt  and  Ifr^iiTx,  Aristotle  seems 
to  have  expressed  tlie  genus,  of  which,  xo(rjLc(gp,  the 
ornajnerital  or  embellishing  epithet,  \^  as  a  species. 

But 


*  See  the  passage  in  die  Preface, 
t  Rhet.  III.  2.  585. 


NOTES.  297 

But  as  he -has  not,  by  any  means,  explained  him- 
self fully,  nor  given  any  definition  either  of  olyaioi, 
or  iTTihroy,  the  mist  which  he  has  left  upon  this 
subject  must  remain.     I  shall  only  remark,  that 
the  word  xoa-fA^  is  once,  (and  I  think  but  once,) 
used  by  him  in  his  Rhetoric,  apparently  in  the 
same  sense  as  in  this  chapter.     For,  speaking  of 
the  propriety  of  diction,  and  its  correspondence  to 
the  subject,  he  observes,  that  "  an  ornament  should 
"  not  be  applied  to  a  mean  word ;  for  this,"  says 
he,  "  has  the  appearance  of  burlesque ;  which  is 
"  the  case  with  Cleophon,  who  has  used  expres- 
"  sions  of  this  sort  as  ridiculous,  as  it  would  be 
''  to  talk  of  an  ''  avgvst Jig-tree ':'    The  word 
xoiTfxf^  here,  and  the  example  by  which  he  explains 
it,  seem  to  prove,  that  xocfM^^  in  the  treatise  on 
Poetry,  means  such  an  epithet  as  embellishes  or 
elevates  the  thing  to  which  it  is  applied.     For 
I  do  not  imagine  that  the  term  includes  what  th6 
Grammarians   call    perpetual    epithets,    such    as 
"  humida  vina,"'  yxXx  Xz\jy.ov,  Sec.  because  Aristotle 
expressly  says,  that  the  xo<r/x(^  is  used  in  common 
speech  :  now  tliese  redundant  epithets  are  banish- 
ed,  both  by  him,  and  by  Quintilian^  even  from 
oratory ;  much  more  from  ordinary  discourse. 

It 

*'  — fim  km  Tft)  itna£i  ovofMri  kirn  KOIMOD-  a  h  fm, 

$i  BiTreiiv  iv,  nOTNiA  XTKH.—III.  7.  p.  590. 

'  Rhet.  III.  3.  p.  587,  C.^Quintil.   Be  Instlt.   Or. 
VIII.  6. 


itgS  NOTES. 

It  may  be  objected,  as  it  has  been  objected  by 
Piccolomini  (p.  337),  that,  as  an  epithet  may,  at 
the  same  time,  be  ^, foreign  word,  a  metaphorical^ 
an  extended,  or  of  any  of  the  other  sorts,  it  could 
not  be  enumerated  by  Aristotle  as  a  distinct  species 
of  words  among  the  rest.  But  the  truth  is,  that 
he  is  not  there  enumerating  so  many  distinct  species 
oj  wordsy  which  exclude  each  other,  but  only  a 
number  of  distinct  properties  of  words,  several  of 
which  may  subsist  together  in  the  same  word. 
Thus,  an  extended  word  may,  manifestly,  be,  at 
the  same  time,  a  metaphorical,  or  q.  foreign  word, 
or  both :  a  metaphorical  word  n:iay  be,  also,  an 
mvented,  extended,  altcTcd  word,  &c.  But  none 
of  these  words  can  be,  at  the  same  time,  av^ioc, 
common  ^vords ;  and  the  only  exclusive  distinction 
that  Aristotle  intended,  is  between  the  common 
word,  and  the  others  ;  all  of  which  are  words,  ou 
some  account  or  otl^er,  uncommon^ 

NOTE  191. 
P.  169.  Nouns  are  divided,  &c. 

In  passages  where  great  corruption  and  little 
importance  meet,  a  commentator  may  be  reason- 
ably indulged  in  silence,  or  brevity.  What  all  this 
has  to  do  in  the  midst  of  an  analysis  of  poetical 
language,  as  distinguished  from  that  of  prose,  I 
confess  myself  totally  unable  to  see. 

llie  defects  of  the  passage  have  been  fully 

pointed  out  by  almost  all  the  aimotators.     See 

7  Mr.  Win- 


NOT    £    S.  299 

Mr.  Winstanley  s  note,  p.  300,  ed.  Ox,  1780. — 
But  we  have  lately  been  told,  that  all  the  com- 
mentators have  entirely  mistaken  the  sense  of  tho 
passage,  and  supposed  it,  without  reason,  to  be 
imperfect,  merely  because  they  did  not  see,  that 
Aristotle  here  speaks,  not  as  a  Grammarian,  but 
as  a  Philosopher,  and  is  considering,  not  the  con- 
ventional gender  of  verbal  inflection,  but  the  real 
gender  of  the  things  signified.  Thus,  it  is  admitted, 
indeed,  that  all  words  ending  in  v,  and  ^,  are  not 
masculine ;  yet,  if  we  examine  the  nature  of  the 
things  denoted  by  words  of  those  terminations,  we 
shall  find,  it  seems,  that  they  are  masculine,  though 
the  words  themselves  are  regarded  as  feminine  *, 
Let  us  try,  then.  M^tti^,  for  example,  ends  in  ^. 
Did  Aristotle's  philosophy  lead  him  to  consider  a 
tnother  as  of  the  masculine  gender  ? 

NOTE   ,192. 

P.  170.    The  excellence  of  diction  con* 

SISTS   IN  BEING    PERSPICUOUS,  WITHOUT  BEING 
MEAN. 

hili<a<;  d^srn—i.  e.  of  diction,  or  langua^re,  in 
general;  not,  '' elocutiojiis  Poeticce^' as  Goulston 
and  others  render  it.  For  Aristotle  gives  the  same 
definition  of  the  excellence  of  oratorical  diction, 

in 


*  JNon  enim  omnia  quae  desinunt  in  v  et  p  sunt 
^*  masculina ;  nisi  ad  sensum  earum  rerum  quas  denotant 
''  respic'tas,  qui  mas  est,  licet  ipsa  nomina  foeminina  ha- 
'*  beantur:'     Ed,  Cantab,  ljSs>  p.  156. 


tn 


\i 


300  NOTES. 

in  his  Rhetoric ;  adding,  only,  with  respect  to  the 
degree  of  elevation,  such  a  restriction  as  liis  subject 
there  required  *.  Now  had  he  intended  here  a 
definition  of  the  language  of  Poetry,  as  discri- 
minated from  that  of  Prose,  he  would  hardly  have 
confined  himself  to  two  characters  common  td 
both ;  viz.  that  it  should  be  perspicuous,  and  yet 
not  nteariy  or  low,  like  colloquial  language,  con- 
sisting only  of  common  and  proper  words,  without 
metaphors,  or  any  of  the  other  ornamental  words 
which  he  enumerates ;  some  of  which  he  makes 
essential  to  the  excellence  {oi^imv)  and  proper  ele- 
vation, even  of  prose  elocution  ^.  For,  that  this 
is  the  force  of  rowKuvr^,  is  clear  from  his  own  ex- 
planation. 

Still,  it  is  obvious  to  ask,  w^hy  the  philosopher, 
when  his  subject  was  the  excellence  of  poetic 
diction,  should  thus  set  out  with  a  general  defi- 
nition, instead  of  giving  us,  at  once,  the  definition 
oiihe  species. — The  reason,  I  suppose,  was,  that 
he  conceived  \X\^  poetic  to  differ  from  the  rhetorical 
^  language,  only  in  the  degree  of  elevation  above 
ordinary  speech  *" ;  and  to  define  degrees  is  not 
^asy.  Nor,  indeed,  was  even  this  difference  com- 
mon to  all  Poetry.  If  the  diction  of  the  Dithyr- 
ambic  and  other  Lyric  kinds,  and  the  Heroic, 
with  their  pompous  apparatus  of  compound  epi- 
thets, foreign  and  antiquated  words,  and  boldness 

of 


»  Rhet.  III.  2.  p.  584.     ^  See  Rhet.  III.  2.  p.  585, 
'  See  the  ch.  of  the  Rhet.  last  referred  to. 


.NOTES.  301 

of  metaphor,  rose  far  above  the  highest  elevation 
of  prose  diction  ;  on  the  other  hand,  that  of  Tra- 
gedy, we  know,  frequently  descended,  in  its  lowest 
parts,  even  below  what  Aristotle  assigns  as  the 
proper  level  of  rhetorical  speech,  to  a  style  dif- 
fering fi-om  common  speech  in  no  other  circum- 
stance but  that  of  metre  \ — Dacier,  with  tlie  stiff 
and  inflexible  dignity  of  French  Tragedy  before 
his  eyes,  appears  to  have  been  shocked  at  the 
expression,  /au  roLirnyyi ;  for  he  tmnslates,  not  the 
words  only,  but  the  ideasy  of  his  author,  into 
French :  *'  La  vertu  de  Texpression  consiste  dans 
"  la  nettet^  et  dans  la  noblesse." 


NOTE  193. 
P.  170.  Such  is  the  Poetry  of  Cleo- 

PHON  -  -  -, 

See  note  14.  in  vol.  i.  From  what  Aristotle  says 
of  this  Poet  in  the  Rhetoric ',  it  appears,  that  he 
sometimes  variegated  his  vulgarity  with  a  dash  of 
bombast.  He  gave  fine  epithets  to  low  words.  The 
fuTjAfff  0J/0/U106,  there,  agrees  with  what  is  said  of 
him  here. 

What  is  there  said  of  Cleophon,  La  Motte  says 
of  Homer  himself. — "  Homere  emploie  quel- 
''  quefois  les  mots  les  plus  vils,  et  il  les  releve 
"  aussitot  par  des  epithet es  magnifiques  ^."  It  must, 

indeed, 

^ ■ rr  T-       -    -Til-  r  i 

^  See  what  is  said  at  the  end  of  this  chapter,  {cap,  xxii.) 
about  the  Tragic  and  other  species ;  and  note  209. 
*  III.  7. — See  NOTE  190,  p.  297.     »>  Disc,  sur  I'lliade. 


302  NOTES. 

indeed,  be  confessed,  that,  after  all  the  apologies 
of  critics  and  commentators,  Homer  s  At©»  uf o^- 
P^ — "  divine  swineherd'' — has  not,  to  our  ears, 
a  much  better  effect  than  irorvta  <ruxu.  The  only 
reasonable  way  of  defending  Homer,  is,  surely,  to 
content  ourselves  with  saying,  in  general,  that  the 
expression  could  not  have  the  same  incongruous 
appearance  in  Homer's  time  ;  as,  in  that  case,  he 
certainly  would  not  have  used  it.  At  least,  this 
would  be  a  better  apology,  than  to  assert,  with 
Boileau,  tliat  (rv|3a;T»if  is  one  of  ih^  finest  words  in 
the  Greek  language  ^" 


f 


NOTE    194. 

P.  170.     And  that  of  Sthenelus. 

This  seems  to  explain  a  fragment  of  Aristo- 
phanes, in  which  the  Poet,  alluding  probably  to 

the 


^  Reflex.  9,  sur  Longin. — '*  II  n'y  a  peut-etre  pas  dans 
"  le  Grec  deux  plus  beaux  mots  que  av^mrrtg  &  ^hkoX^T — 
Le  Bossu,  the  admired  Le  Bossu,  apologizes  in  a  different 
way.  The  passage  is  a  morsel  of  such  rare  and  exquisite 
absurdity,  that  I  cannot  witlihold  it  from  the  reader. 
**  Nous  trouvons  de  grandes  bassesses  dans  les  termes  de 
"  chaudrons  &  de  marmites,  dans  le  sang,  dans  les  graisses, 
"  dans  les  intestins  &  autres  parties  des  animaux  ;  par- 
*'  ceque  tout  cela  n'est  plus  que  dans  nos  cuisines  &  dans 
"  nos  boucheries,  &  que  ces  choses  nous  font  bondir  le 
"  coeur.  Et  nous  ne  prenons  pas  garde,  que  tout  cela,  au 
^*  temps  d'Homere  et  dc  Virgile,  ctoii  au  gout  du  S,  Esprit 
*<  memey  qui  ria  jamais  pu  r avoir  mauvais ;  que  Dieu 
"  avoit  tres-soigneusement  ordonn^  toutes  ces  choses  a 
«*  Moise,"  &c.      Traits  du  Poeme  Epique,  VI.  8. 


NOTES. 


303 


the  flatness  and  insipidity  of  the  diction  of 
Sthenelus,  as  wanting  the  poetic  seasoning  of  me- 
taphor, &c.  introduces  some  hungry  fellow  saying, 
that  "  he  could  make  shift  to  eat  even  some  of  the 
*'  words  of  Sthenelus,  if  they  zvere  but  dipped  in 
"  salt,  or  vinegar.'' 

Koit  TTug  syco  ZSeveXn  (potymfjC  ccv  cr^ftx  rt, 

Athen.  ix.  irut, 
NOTE    195. 

P.  170.     An    ^Enigma,    if    composed   of 

METAPHORS — . 

'*  Ut  modicus  autem  atque  opportunus  ejus  usus 
"  illustrat  orationem,  ita,  frequens  et  obscurat  et 
"  taedio  complet ;  continuus  vero  in  allegoriam  et 
*^  (Enigma  exit."—Quintil.  VIII.  6. 

NOTE    196. 

P.   170.     The    essence   of  an   ^Enigma 

CONSISTS,  &c. 

I  can  neither  assent  to  the  emendation  pro- 
posed by  Mr.  Winstanley,  nor  see  the  least  want  of 
any  emendation.  The  passage  appears  to  me 
perfectly  clear  and  unexceptionable,  as  it  is.  T» 
iiTA^X^yrx  must,  by  no  means,  be  joined  with  aV»- 
yoLTx.  It  evidently  means  here,  in  a  sense  very 
usual,  things  that  actually  exist — i.e.  are  true. 

As,    Rhet.  II.    25,    Xmitxi    it  xoci   rx   <rn[A.nx,  -  -  - 

xay  J  iwx(x,ovTx  :  where,  ifrx^x^vrx  is  synonymous 

with 


ft. 


304  NOTES. 

with  dxmhq,  in  lib,  i.  cap.  ii.  p.  5 1 7 — Xvrov  ^f,  xotp 
AAHeES  if. 

The  passage  is  accurately  and  closely  rendered 
by  Piccoloniini.  "  La  forma  e  Tessentia  deir 
*'  enigma  consiste  in  questo,  clie  nel  dir  cose,  che 
"  VERAMENTE  siANO,  si  congiunghino  imieme 
"  cose  cK  appaiano  impossibUi  h  star  iyisienier — 
And  this  is  an  exact  definition  of  an  'lenigma — 
such  an  ajnigrna,  at  least,  as  Aristotle  means.  But 
in  the  other  way  of  constructing  the  passage,  which 
is  that  of  Castelvetro,  and  some  other  interpreters, 
it  is  no  definition  at  all.  For  if  the  essence  of  a 
riddle  consists  merely  in  "  putting  together  things 
"  that  are  incompatible  and  impossible,'' — rot  uVa^ - 
yoyrix,  dSvvotra  trukav^ai — then  the  Italian  Poet  made 
a  riddle,  when  he  described  a  man  fighting  after  he 
was  cut  in  two : 

-     -     -     -    -    del  colpo  non  accorto, 

Andava  combattendo,  ed  era  morto  *, 


!*«. 

> 


NOTE    197. 

P.  170.    Now  THIS  CANNOT  BE  EFFECTED  BY 
THE  MERE  ARRANGEMENT  OF  THE  WORDS,  &C. 

KccTOt  fxti/  nv  rnit  ruv  oi/Ojtxarwk  (rvvSiCiV. — Hcinsius — 
rri¥  Twv  KTPIX2N  oifOfAocriov — .      But  the  xu^toif  oyoiAiZy 

as  I  have  already  observed,  is,  throughout,  opposed 
by  Aristotle,  not  to  fxirapo^x  only,  but  to  all  the 
other  words.     He  would  hardly,  therefore,  have 

used 

♦  Berni,  Orlando  Innamorato,  lib,  ii.  canto  24,  stanza  60. 


NOTES.  305 

used  it  here  in  a  different  sense,  as  opposed  to 
metaphor  only.  If  any  emendation  were  neces- 
sary, I  should  tliink  AAAIiN  ivofAxruy  more  pro- 
bable *.  But  perhaps  no  word  is  wanting.  Aristotle 
bad  used  the  expression,  a^Myxroe,  XTNA^AI — '*  to 
"  put  together  things  impossible."  This  might 
lead  to  suppose,  that  an  aenigma  might  be  made 
by  the  mere  <n;v6f(r<?  lyQ^AXTm — by  a  certain  arrange-- 
ment  or  construction  of  the  words  only.  Therefore 
he  adds—"  this  cannot  be  done  by  the  mere 
"  arrangement  of  the  words ;  by  the  metapkancal 
**  use  of  them  it  may." 

As  this  sense  seems  sufficiently  clear  **,  supposes 
no  defect  in  the  text,  and,  after  all,  coincides,  in 
the  main,  with  that  of  Heinsius,  (for  we  must  ne- 
cessarily understand,  an  arrangement  of  words  not 
metaphorical—)  I  have  adopted  it  in  my  trans- 
lation,  afl^r  Dacier,  and  Batteux. 


*  So,  I  find,  Piccolomini  translates: — <«  dell'  altre 
parole.*' 

^  It  seems  also  to  resnit,  most  naturally,  from  Aristotle's 
expression;  in  which,  itflrra  t)iv  t«v  'ONOMATXIN  2TN- 
OESIN,  and,  uarra  METAOOPAN,  seem  opposed :— "  by 
''  comtruction-^hy  metaphor ^-^K  he  had  written  Kara 
w  T«v  AAAHN  (or  KTPmN)  ovofjL.  cuvd,  he  would  pro- 
bably have  written  also  —  uara  h  m  rm  Mfra^o^nN 
($c.  awQi7tv.) 


€>', 


VOL.  IX, 


3<^ 


NOTES. 


1. 


NOTE    198. 
P.  170.     A  MAN  I  ONCE  BEHELD,  &C. 

See  Rhet.  III.  2.  p.  586,  where  this  is  called 
an  approved,  or  admired,  riddle  : — ii^  tw  alviyixar^ 
Tw  £ue^oxtj!x8i/T4 — .  I  wish  it  may  ti^oKiiMnv  with  a 
modern  reader.  In  Athenaeus  another  line  ap- 
pears : 

AvSo    bISoV  TTVDl  X'^'kKOV  BTT    UVB^l  KOXXvi(rOCVTX, 

'OuTW  cvyycoXXcog  cSg^B  (rvvocifjLU  ttoieiv. 

Lib,  ix.  p.  452. 

But  Casaubon  seems  right  in  supposing  this  pen- 
tameter to  have  been  a  modern  addition  ;  for  it  is 
not  found,  I  believe,  in  any  more  an tient  writer. 
Even  in  Plutarch,  I  observe,  that  the  hexameter 
not  only  appears  by  itself,  as  in  Aristotle,  but  is 
plainly  given  as  the  whole.  See  his  Si/mposium, 
p.  267,  ed.  H.  St.  It  appears  from  that  passage 
to  have  been  the  production  of  a  lady,  Eumetis. 
I  doubt  whether,  in  these  "  degenerate  days,"  it 
would   have  gained   her  a  prize  in   the  Ladys 

Diary. 

The  Greeks  were  fond  of  these  puzzles.  The 
reader  may  find  some  curious  specimens  of  this 
sort  of  wit  in  JthencEus,  X.  448,  &c, 

NOTE    199. 

P.  171.  As  OLD  Euclid  did,  objecting,  &c. 

Fontenelle  talks  in  the  same  way.    "  Du  terns 

"  d'Homere  c'^toit  une  grande  merveille  qu'un 

**  bomrae 


fC 


« 


ii 


« 


<6 


l( 


U 


iC 


€C 


i( 


4€ 


It 


NOTES.  307 

homme  pflt  assujettir  son  discours  k  des  me- 

sures,  k  des  sillabes  longues  et  breves,  &  faire 

€n  m^me  terns  quelque  chose  de  raisonnable. 

On  donnoit  done  aux  Poetes  des  licences  infinies, 

&  on  se  tenoit  encore  trop  heureux  d  avoir  des 

vers.     Homere  pouvoit  parler  dam  un  seul  vers 

cinq  langues  differentes;    prendre  le  dialecte 

Dorique   quand   Tlonique    ne   I'accommodoit 

pas ;  au  defaut  de  tous  les  deux,  prendre  I'At- 

tique,   TEolique,  ou  le  commun;  c'est-h-dire, 

"  parler  en  m^me  terns,  Picard,  Gascon,  Nor- 
mand,  Breton,  8^  Francois  commun.  II  pouvoit 
allonger  un  mot  sil  itoit  trop  court,  Vaccourcir 
s'il  itoit  trop  long;   personne  n'y  trouvoit  k 

''  redire  *."       ^ 

But,  could  this  ingenious  and  sensible  writer 
seriously  su^^ose,  thai  the  language  of  Homer's 
poems  had  at  all  the  same  effect  to  a  hearer,  oj- 
reader,  of  his  time,  that  an  English  poem  would 
now  have,  if  composed  of  all  the  provincial  dia- 
lects of  Great  Britain  ?— We  are  always  told,  how 
Homer  enriched  his  language  by  "  visitincr  all  the 
"  principal  nations  of  Greece,  and  learning  the 
''  pecuHarities  of  their  speech  ^"     Just  as  if  an 

English 

*  Digression  sur  les  Anc.  et  les  Mod, 

^  BlackweU's  Enquiry,  See.  p.  292.— And  $0,   indeed, 
tlie  author  of  the  treatise  De  Horn,  Poes,--A£iei  h  'jtoihiXti 

wav  iM^. 

X  2 


pi  *i 


;t 


308  NOTES. 

English  poet,  because  he  had  resided  some  time  in 
Yorkshire,  or  Lancashire,  might,  in  his  next  poem, 
put  met  for  night,  loise  for  lose,  or  a  halliblash^ 
a  very  well-sounding  Lancashire  word,  for  a 
blaze. 

This  account  makes  the  language  of  Homer  no 
Other  than  the  xoii^to-ju©*  \^hich  Quintilian  repro- 
bates, among  the  vitia  orat'wms  *" ;  something  worse 
than  the  **  Babylonish  dialect "  of  Hudibras  ; 

-     -     -     - '    "  a  party-colour'd  dress 
"  Of  patch'd  and  piebald  languages. 


<c 


\ 


"  It  had  an  odd  promiscuous  tone, 

"  As  if  he'd  talk'd  three  parts  in  one ; 

"  Which  made  some  think,  when  he  did  gabble, 

"  They  had  heard  three  labourers  of  Babel  \ 

*'  Or  Cerberus  himself  pronounce 

"  A  leash  of  languages  at  once." 

With  such  an  idea  of  Homer  s  language,  Fontenelle 
might  well  add — "  Cette  Strange  confusion  de 
"  langues,  cet  assemblage  bisarre  de  mots  tout 
"  d^figur^s,  etoit  la  langue  des  dieux ;  du  moins 

"  il 


c  u 


Komcr/*^  quoquc  appellatur  qusedam  mista  ex 
**  varia  ratione  linguarum  oratio ;  in  si  Auicis  Dorica, 
*'  Ionic  a,  *jEoHca  etiam  dicta  confundas,  Cui  simile  vitium 
'*  est  apud  nos,  si  quia  sublimia  humilibus,  vetcra  novis, 
'*  poetica  vulgaribus  misceat." 

De  Inst,  Or,  VIIL  3.  p.  396,  ed,  Gibs^ 

Quintilian  certainly  did  not  intend  this  for  a  description 
of  Homer'i  language. 


NOTES.  309 

*'  il  est  bien  sur  que  ce  n  etoit  pas  celle  des  hmimesr 
— And,  indeed,  I  firmly  believe  with  I^rd  Mon- 
boddo,  that  "  such  a  mongrel  dialect  was  never 
*^'  written  by  any  man;"  and  that  "  Homer 
"  wrote,  either  the  language  that  was  spoken  in 
the  country  where  he  was  born  and  educated, 
or  that  was  used  by  the  poets  that  had  written 
before  him,  and  was  the  established  lancuatre 
of  Poetry  V*  ""  ^ 


it 


C( 


€C 


a 


i( 


NOTE    200. 

P.  171.     And  then  giving  a  burlesque 

EXAMPLE    OF    THAT    SORT   OF    DICTION. 

lafM^oiro^YKTag  {y  auVp  rv  Affj,.— Two  senses  have 
been  given   to   the   word   Iccfj^oTroin^rxg ;  both  of 
them,  I  think,  far  from  satisfactory.     Some  render 
it— 7naking  Iambic  verses:   ''Iambic   usus  est: 
[Viet.]     But,  is  it  likely,  that  Euclid,  meaning  tx) 
ridicule   Homers  hexameters,   should    do    it  in 
Iambic  verse  ?— Besides  that  the  lines  themselves, 
such  as  we  find  them,  have  not  the  least  air  of 
Iambics,  but  fall  easily  enough,  with  a  little  help, 
into  hexameters.     lo  this  I  perfectly  agree  with 
Dacier;  though  I  see  no  reason  to  suppose  with 
him,  that  Euclid  had  composed  ~^^  un  ouvrage  en 
**  vers  heroiques." 

< — Others, 

^  Orig.  and  Prog,  of  Lang,  vo/.iil.  p.  19.— And  see 
the  rational  account  given  of  this  matter,  and  of  the 
progress  and  intermixture  of  the  Greek  dialects  in  gene^ 
lal,  by  Mr.  Burgess,  in  his  valuable  edition  of  the  MscelL 
Crit.  of  Dawes,  Pre/,  xxi.  and  p,  405. 

X3 


I 


p 


310  NOTES. 

Others,  and  Madius  in  particular,  understand 
the   word  to   mean,   satirizing,    ridiculing,    the 
Poet ; — "  se  moque  de  lui."  [Dae,']     A  meaning 
that,  undoubtedly,  suits  the  passage  better ;  whe- 
ther it  suits  the  word  itself  I   much  doubt,  but 
will   not  venture   to  decide.     As  Aristotle  uses 
Iaju|3o«-oto?,  in  the  sense   of   a  satuic  Poet^ — a 
maker  of  the  ta|Lt(3oj,  or  satirie  poem,  he  may  pos* 
sibly  have  used  the  verb,  lonk^otromy,  here,  in  the 
correspondent  sense  of  making  a  satire  upon,  or 
burlesquing :  —  iajtA/3oiro«?j(raf    tv    auVij    tij    Xt^ti  — 
*'  having  ridiculed  him  in  that  sort  of  diction,'^  in 
the  following  manner,  &c. — As  this  sense  appears 
to  me,  on  the  whole,  far  more  eligible  than  the 
other,  I  have  followed  it :  for  I  see  no  third  sense 
that  can,  with  any  shew  of  probability,  be  ex- 
tracted from  the  present  text.     But  that  it  is 
defective,  and  that  la/AJSoiroino-ac  is  an  error,  I  have 
very  little   doubt     If   conjecture    might  be  in- 
dulged, I  should  be  inclined  to  suppose,  that  what 
Aristotle  had  said  was  this ;— "  that  it  is  an  easy 
matter  to  versify,   exen  in  common  speech,   (Iv 
auTi?  Tti  Afgn,)  if  one  may  be  allowed  to  extend 
syllables  and  words  at  pleasure,  so  as  to  con- 
vert,  for  instance,   an   Iambic  foot,  which  is 
continually  occurring  in  common  conversation**, 
into  an  Heroic  or  Spondee.''    And  the  exam- 
ples that  follow,  were  probably  two  prose  sen- 
tences so  converted,  or  convertible,  into  hexameters. 

But 

•*  I  I  II  II  ■  m 

•  See  cap,  ix.         ^  Cap,  iv. — lAa^ura  ya^  hviTiHov,  &c. 


i( 


16 


it 


ti 


it 


<( 


NOTES.  jn 

But  as  to  the  manner  in  which  Aristotle  had 
expressed  this  in  the  text,  I  have  no  conjecture  to 
offer  that  is  satisfactory,  even  to  myself. — Of  the 
mangled  lines  which  follow,  with  their  perplexing 
variety  of  indeterminable  readings,  I  shall  say 
with  Victorius,  ''  veritate  desperate,  nihil  amplius 
"  curae  de  hac  re  suscipere  volui."  It  is  some 
comfort  however,  as  M.  Batteux  has  observed, 
that  both  the  objection  of  Euclid,  and  Aristotle's 
answer,  are  clear  enough,  independently  of  the 
examples. 

I  ought  to  mention,  that  Castelvetro  has  ex- 
plained this  passage,  without  supposing  the  text 
wrong,  in  a  manner  different  from  any  other  in- 
terpreter, and  which,  in  part,  accords  with  my 
idea.  By  Ix^i.^oiroiuy  he  understands  neither  sati- 
rizing, nor  making  Iambic  *verses\  but,  making 
lambic^ee^  imtead  of  spondees y  in  hexameter  verse. 
And  the  sense  he  gives  the  whole  passage  is  this : 
"  It  would  be  a  very  easy  thing  to  write  heroic 
**  verse^  if  this  liberty  of  extension  were  allowed ; 
"  for  then,  a  Poet  might  put  Iambic  feet  in  the 
room  of  Spondees,  and  commit  no  fault,  be- 
cause the  short  syllables  might  be  lengthened 
at  pleasure."  And  the  lines  that  follow  he 
supposes  to  be  examples  of  such  defective  hexa- 
meters. 

There  is  somewhat  ingenious  in  this  explanation, 
as  there  is  in  many  others  of  this  acute  writer ; 
but  it  has  likewise  the  fault,  which  many  of  his 

X  4  explanationa 


16 


66 


66 


I.^. 

*« 


1^' 


311  NOTES. 

explanations  have ;  that  of  being  by  no  means 
reconcileable  with  the  original. —  See  his  com- 
ment, p.  481. 

NOTE  201. 
P.  172.     When   these   licences  appear 

TO    BE    THUS   purposely    USED- . 

— To  fAiv  iv  $AINE20AI  ttw;  p^^w/xfvoi^,  x.  t.  i\, — 
The  force,  both  of  (pAmaitu,  which  I  understand 
to  be  emphatic  here,  and  of  ttw?,  seems  perfectly 
well  explained  by  Castelvetro.  "  Non  so  perchfe 
"  alcuni  vogliano  rimuovere  di  questo  testo,  ttw^, 
**  cssendoci  stato  posto  per  dimostrare,  che  allora 
"  il  vitio  si  scopre,  e'  1  riso  si  maove,  quando  si 
"  comincia  in  alcun  modo  a  riconoscet'ej  che  il 
**  poeta  ha  usata  a  studio^  e  ricercaia  questa  ma- 
"  mera  di  parole''  p.  482. 

So,  too,  Piccolomini  s  translation  — •  '^  Vesser 
**  ^eduto —  usar  cosi  fatto  modo  di  locutione." — 
For  TTwc,  I  once  suspected  we  should  read  AIIPE- 
»w? ;  as  presently  after — xf  "i^«>'®*  «Vf  £9r«?.  But 
I  believe  ir«f  is  right : — aliquo  modo. 

NOTE  202. 

P.  172.  How  GREAT  A  DIFFERENCE  IS 
MADE,    &C. 

'Oo-ov  $ioc(pi^ii — .    Not  "  quantum  excellat^  as 

Goulston   and   others  translate ;    but,  **  what  a 

"  difference  the  proper  use  of  such  words  makes'^ 

— "  how  different  the  effect  is."  As,  al)ove,  cap.  x,^ 

7  AIA^EPEX 


ti 


NOTES.  ^    3,3 

AIAMPEI  y«,^  ^oxu—''  it  makes  a  great  difference:" 
and,  cap,  xviii.  n  AIA^EPEI.  —  Nothing  more 
common  than  this  use  of  the  word.  The  differ- 
ence here  expressed,  is,  plainly,  between  the 
d^fMorrov,  and  the  aV^iTrw^,  in  the  use  of  such  words; 

A£  'APMOTTON  oVov  Aa?)£^£i— x.t.a. 

NOTE    203, 

P.  172.      AND  TEMPERATE  USE  OF  SUCH 

WORDS—. 

— EyT*9f^£k«y  Tw>  iyoiAurm  lU  ro  ^grj/jy  :— literally, 
the  zcords  beihg  put  into  the  metre  r  i.  e.  as- 
Victorius   and  others  explain   it,  "taking  care, 
"  that,  in  changing  the  words,  you   do  it  '  salvo 
"  metro:''    A  very  unnecessary  caution  surely; 
besides  that  the  Greek  hardly  myis  that,  whatever 
it  may  wean.     Let  us   try   its   meaning  by  the 
fairest  test,  that  of  strict  and  literal  translation ; 
for  we  can  sometimes  see  nonsense  in  English^ 
wliich  we  cannot  see  in  Greek.     "  But  what  dif- 
'•'  ference  is  made  by  a  proper  use  of  such  word3, 
"  may  be  observed  in  hexameter  verse,  when  the 
''  words  are  put  into   (i.  e.  as  it  is  explained, 
"  adapted  to  — )  the  metre:'—  What  words  ?  -^ 
RletaphoricaJ,   foreign,  extended,   &c.   of  which 
he   had  just  been   speaking.     Very   well.     But 
how— put  in,  or  adapted  to,  the  metre  ?— for  not  a 
word  has  yet  been  said  about  changing  the  words. 
Goulston  understands,   putting  in   these  poetical 

words 


l4> 


€1 


II 


3H  NOTES. 

words  instead  of  the  proper  and  common  xvords '. 

I  see  nothing  of  this  in  the  original. 

In  short,  it  appears  to  me,   that  notliing  tole- 
rable can  be  made  of  the  phrase,  il?  to  jutT^ok, 
taken  in  this  sense.     If  it  might  be  taken,  as  some 
have  taken  it  ^  adverbially,  for  [xsr^iug — to  a  mode- 
rate degree — all  would  be  well.     "  Let  it  be  con- 
*'  sidered   in  heroic  verse,  what  a  difference  is 
made  by  such  words,  when  properly  used,  and 
not  inserted,  or  introduced,  too  frequently, ''  But 
I  cannot  think  that  the  expression  will  admit  of 
this  sense,  though  somewhat  favoured,   perhaps, 
by  the  circumstance  of  /sxItjov  having  been  just 
before   used   in  the  sense  of  moderation :   to   h 
fAiT^ov,  Koivov  dtTTMruiv,  &c.     If  thc  articlc  TO  were 
omitted,  the  adverbial  sense  would  be  less  impro- 
bable; but,  fl?  TO  /Air^ov,  can  only,  I  think,  mean 
• — into  the  metre.     Still,   however,   1  incline  to 
think  this  was  Ari^otle's  meaning,  and  that  he 
probably  wrote  ag  to  METPION.     A  single  letter 
makes  all  the  difference.     The  word  /AiT^iov,  as  far 
as  that  may  add  any  probability  to  my  conjecture, 
occurs  in  that  part  of  the  Rhetoric  where  he  is 
treating  of  the  very  same  subject — the  proper  and 
moderate  use  of  metaphors,  epithets,   and  other 
tropical  and  ornamental  words,  in  oratory.    Thus, 
III.  2.  p.  586,  speaking  of  epithets  and  diminu- 
tives. 


*  See  tlie  notes  oa  his  Latin  version. 
^  Castelvetio—  Dacier  — f "  misfs  avec  mesure'')  and 
the  editor  of  the  unaccented  Ox.  ed  of  1760. 


NOTES.  315 

lives,  he  says,    iJAajSfio^a*    h  $n,    xa*   Trx^ocrnfnv   h 

dy,^o^y  TO  METPION,     And  again,  of  epithets— 

^ii   rTo;)^«^€o-9a«  TOT   METPIOT.  /;.  587. 

As  this  was  the  only  satisfactory  sense  I  could 
make  of  the  words,  I  have  ventured  to  give  it  in 
my  version. 

NOTE  204. 

P.  172.  For  a  common  and  usual  word  — . 

Ku^jK  tl(t)9oT^.     As  xv^tov,  in  Aristotle's  sense, 
IS    common,    the    addition   of  iIw9ot(^,    (usual), 
seems,  at  first  view,  to  be  mere  tautology.     But 
the  case,  as  it  is  very  well  explained  by  Victorius, 
appears  to  have  been  this.    The  word  Misi,  which 
he  here  calls  xu^toi/  £lw9^,  was  not  strictly  xu^tov, 
but   only  a  com?non  metaphor;  that  is,   a  word 
which,   though   originally  metaphorical,   had  ac- 
quired,  by  constant  use  as  a  chirurgical  term*, 
the  effect  of  a  proper  word.    [See  note   179.] 
As   xv(iov,   therefore,    in  Aristotle's  enumeration, 
was  opposed  to  fAtrocipo^x,   as  well   as  to  yXcorrot, 
and  the  rest  of  the  poetical  words,   the  applica- 
tion of  it   here,  to  a  word   that  was   evidently 
metaphorical  in  its  original  use,  might  seem  incon- 
sistent :  the  word  iluior^  was  therefore,  probably, 
added,  to  obviate,  in  his  short  way,  this  objection. 

I  cannot 


♦  Aristotle,  probably,  would  not  have  given  the  deno- 
mination of  fw^iov,  at  all,  to  the  same  word  in  this  line  of 
Homer : 

Taj  ofjia  701  irocnai  '^^S  ^'^*"'—         ^l^  ^'  '8t. 


[*l* 


Ji*  NOTES. 

I  cannot  guess  what  induced  Dacier  to  render 
yXwrratp,  here,  by  "  mot  metaphorique ;"  or  Cas- 
telvetro  to  assert,   that  Aristotle  calls  fl«t>«T«^  a 
foragn  word,  only  on  account  of  the  boldness  (^ 
the  rnetaphor.     By  yXmro^,   I  think,  we   are  to 
understand,  any  word  that  belongs  either  to  ano- 
ther language,    or  another  dialect  of  the  same 
language,  and  that  is  not  naturalized  by  common 
and  popular  use.     For  foreign   words,   by  long 
usage,  become  common  and  popular  w^ords ;  like 
cntirCy  dame,  and  a  great  number  of  other  French 
Wofds  in  our  language,  which  were  yXfancn,  when 
first  introduced,  and  for  a  considerable  time  after- 
wards ;  but  have  now,  for  many  years,  ceased  to 
be  ctMisidered  as  foreign  words.     Such  words  in 
the  Greek  language  Aristotle,  I  apprehend,  did 
Hot  comprehend  under  the  term  yXtsirrai,  as  not 
being  strange^  tmcommon,  5«vtx«.     This  is  evident 
from  a  passage  in  his  Rhetmc:  ii  /xiv  i^t  TAXIT- 
TAI,  ArNHTEI  •  T«  h  KTPIA,   I2MEN  \ 

There  is,  however,  one  sort  of  poetic  words  not 
distinctly  provided  for  in  Aristotle's  enumeration; 
I  mean,  obsolete  words.  Yet  these  make  so  con- 
siderable a  part  of  the  privileged  language  of 
verse,  that  we  can  hardly  suppose  him  to  have 
overlooked  them.  rxwTTflt*  seems  the  only  class 
to  which  they  can  possibly  be  referred :  yet  his 
definition  of  yAwrra  is,  "  a  word,  w  ypmiM 
ETEPOI ;"  which  is  not  applicable  to  an  obsolete 

^ word, 

^  RheU  111.  10,  iniu 


NOTES.  J,, 

Mtn-d,  used  by  nobody.  Perhaps  he  did  not  think 
it  worth  while  to  distinguish  between  words  be- 
longing to  another  language,  or  dialect,  and  wordi 
that  once  belonged  to  the  native  language,  but 
which,  having  long  fallen  into  disuse,  have,  when 
occasionally  revived,  the  effect  oi  foreign  words, 

KOTE    205. 

P.  172.     The    cankerous    wound    that 

EATS    MY    FLESH. 

should  read,  probably,  for  the  sake  of  the  metre, 
either  ^fccyttoum  y  fl,  as  it  is  corrected  in  the 
Oxford  Euripides,  or,  which  seems  still  better, 
fxyaoc^yx  $n,  which  is  Du  Pauws  emendation. 
And  (ra^Tta^,  for  the  same  reason,  must  have  been 
altered  to  <ra^x«,  in  the  verse  of  Euripides,  as,  p- 
see,  it  is  given  in  the  Oxford  edition. 

Had  Aristotle  told  us  no  more  about  these 
two  lines;  than  that  one  of  them  was  of  JEschylus, 
and  the  other  of  Euripides,  what  critic  would 
not  have  confidently  given  the  floivara*  to  JEs^ 
chylus? 

NOTE  206. 

P.   173.         NVV   Jb      fjJ     lujV     OAirOS     T6     KCU 

OYTIAANO2:  xa/  KYLIKTZ. 

Od.  IX.  515. — In  the  allowed  line,  thus: 
Nw  ^6  1/  luv    MIKP02    TB  Kcci  ASGENIKOS 

Koci  AEIAHr. 

Among 


if- 


lUfS 


\  IV*' 


m: 


318  NOTES. 

Among  these  substituted  terms,  that  ^ix^©* 
answers  to  o\ty^  is  clear  enough ;  but  how  duhi 
answers  to  dKiKv^y  it  is  not  easy  to  make  out. 
This  difficulty  struck  me,  long  before  I  had  seen 
the  comment  of  Victorius,  who  makes  the  same 
remark;  and  I  had  accounted  for  the  mistake  in 
the  same  way  that  he  does  :  for,  if  axixu?  be  the 
true  reading,  the  commentators  must,  probably, 
have  been  misled  by  taking  it  for  granted,  that  the 
substituted  words  must  necessarily  correspond,  in 
order,  as  well  as  meaning,  to  the  original  words  *. 
But  it  is  easy  to  s(?e,  that  at icTn?,  ugly,  or  deformed^ 
cannot  answer  to  axixuf,  which  is  weak ;  and  that 
a(r9fkix(^  does  exactly  answer  to  it.  'Axtxuf — 
•ASOENHS,  d$\)vx7(^.  Hesych, — But  my  difficulty 
goes  still  farther.  I  do  not  see  how  di^$y\q  can 
correspond,  in  meaning,  to  sTi^a^®*.  I  once 
thought  it  should  be  AEIKHS. — Ouxi^av®^ — iSivf^ 
m^i^.  Hesych,  Afix£Xi«?  —  £ut£A£k,  OTAENOS 
AHIOTS  :  and,  AEIKES— ETKATA^PONHTON.  Id. 
So    Suidas ;     AfixfXi®^  —  0    fuxafa^^omr^.      But, 

notwithstanding  the  authority  of  lexicographers, 
and  the  common  derivation  of  the  two  words, 
«£ixn?  and  a£ixiAt(^,  I  question  whether  the  former 
is  ever  used  by  Homer  in  the  sense  of  ari^ak^, 
contemptible,  mean,  &c.  though  aiixeXi^*  is.   Arixrij 

seems 

*  — "  Aristotelem,  ordinem  Homericorum  verborum  ia 
**  immutatione  eorum  non  savasse;  atquc  id  fecisse,  ut 
•*  metrum  servaret ;  et,  quum  inquit,  arflfvix®-,  quod  secun» 
**  dum  apud  ipsum  est,  tertium  apud  poetam  exprimere  vo» 

luisse^'*     Fiii.  Comment,  p.  237. 


<( 


N    Q    T    E    S.  3,9, 

seems  always  to  mean,  indignus,  unworthy,  sad, 
shocking,  shamful,  &c.  It  is  a  word  of  serimm^ 
indignatmi\  Ai.x.x.o,  seems  to  be  used  some- 
times in  that  sense',  and  sometimes  in  the  con^ 
tempt mus  sense*,  as  in  the  line  of  IJomer  which 
AristoUe  next  produces.  The  only  passages  that 
I  have  found  in  Homer,  where  iuxn^  will  admit 
well  of  this  sense,  are  Od.  n.  199,  and  Od.  a.  249, 
in  the  expressions,  «.xi«  i<r<ro,  and,  «hx,«  ,V«-«,  :' 
yet  even  there,  it  Ls  not  necessary  to  render  it 
"  meanly  clad ;"  it  may  be,  as  in  other  places, 
sadly,  unbecomingly,  indigjii,  Sec.' 

With  respect  to  the  word  «tJ«»(^,  Hesychius 
gives  «<r9(»«  as  one  of  its  meanings ;  and  aVSfKx©* 
might  well  enough  answer  to  it  here,  were  it  not 
for  the  stronger  claim  of  the  word  ax.xuj ;  which, 
however,  after  all,  may  possibly  be  a  mistake.  We 
know  how  variously  Homer  was  read  and  quoted 
by  the  antients.  Three  Medicean  manuscripts 
here  give  inint,  instead  of  ax.xuj  = ;  and  so,  the 
ed.  Aid.  and  the  version  of  VaUa.  This  reading 
is  also  mentioned  by  Eustathius.  Perhaps,  theiC 
««<r»f  might  be  the  reading  of  Aristotle's  copy— 
the  precious  copy  «  vu^hx^,  of  which  we  hear 
so  much ;  and  he  might  mean  to  exemplify  his 
proposed  experiment  of  substituting  comrnon,  for 
poetical,  expression,  only  in  the  two  Jirst  words ; 
repeating  the  last,  .iu.int,  merely  to  complete  hii 
verse. 

>  Vide  indices  Horaericos.    'As  Od.  A.  244.^32.  fl.231. 
*  Ind.  Homer.  •  See  Mr.  Winstanley's  edition. 


?** 


Hi 

i. 


JM  N    O    T    t    A 

verse.  But  whatever  becomes  of  this  conjecture^ 
cme  thing  I  cannot  help  just  observing — that  this 
reading,  cUi^n^y  is  favoured  by  the  preceding  lines 
in  Homer.  Polyphemus  says — 
AAX'  cctBi  Tivoc  (pcoTot  MEFAN  xoci  KAAON  Ihyfifif 
'Ev^uV  IXiVirea-Gctt^  fzeyuXriv  iTnUfiivov  AAKHN, 
NuF  &  ijl\  Im  OAirOX   ts  ::«*    OYTIAAN02 

xm  AKIKYS,  &c.  v.  513, 

One  would  expect  the  three  words  in  this  last 
line  to  answer,  as  opposites,  to  greats  handsome^ 
and  strong,  in  the  two  first :  which  they  will  not 
do,  if  we  read  axixv? ;  for  sn^uv^,  though  it  may 
Very  well  be  opposed  to  (AtyuXnu  sTrmfxtuov  uXxnv^ 
eannot  be,  with  any  propriety,  opposed  to  xaXor. 
Whereas,  if  cUi^ng  be  substituted  for  ax»xuf,  all 
urill  answer  exactly ;  oXiy^,  to  fxtyav,  «Ti(?«v(^,  to 

pityxXnv  lfriu[Aiyey  aAxrjv,  and  auSr\q,  tO  y.o(.Xov, 

In  these  examples,  it  is  not  always  easy  to  as- 
certain the  particular  class,  to  which  Aristotle 
would  have  referred  the  words  which  he  chanses. 
"We  learn,  however,  that  all  these  Homeric  Words 
w€re  ^y*x«,  uncommon,  and  poetical ;  and  that  all 
the  substituted  words  were  xufta — words  in  com" 
mon  and  familiar  use. 

NOTE    207. 

P.  174.     For   it    is    this    alone,  which 

CANNOT    BE    ACQUIRED,    &€. 

Well  translated,  though  very  freely,  by  M.  Bat- 
^ux.      "  C'est  la  seule  chose  qu'on  ne  puisse! 

"  empruntcr 


1»    O    T    E    S.  321 

II  emprunter  dailleurs.  C est  la  production  du 
*'  g^nie,  le  coup-d'oei; dm  esprit  qui  voit  ks  rap- 
"  ports:'  Compare  RkeL  IIL  2.  p.  585^  D.  and 
1^-  P-595,  E.  where  it  is  observed,  that,  xa*  h 

ipiXotroipiot,  TO  'OMOION,  KAI  EN  HOAT  MEXOTEI, 
hic^uy,  iCfo^H.  —  See  Mr.  Harris's  P/nlol,  Inq\ 
p.  186,  187,  where  all  these  passages  are  quoted 
and  translated. 

NOTE  20S. 

^  P.  175.  The  double  are  best  suited 
TO  dithyrambic  Poetry,  &c. 

ifVTOi  yot^  ^o(pc,hyg'  di  Se  yXu}TTcci,  rotg  iTfowoioiq' 
CTBf^vov  yoL^  Koci  avdocSer  'n  {^BTcc(pe^a  J^g,  roii 
luf^fieioig.     Met.  HI.  3.  p.  587. 

NOTi)    20(). 

P.  175.  But  TO  IAMBIC  VERSE,  WHICH  IS, 
As  >IUCH  AS  MAY  BE,  AN  IMITATION  OF 
COMMON    SPEECH    -    -   -. 

This,  as  I  have  already  observed*,  is  the  only 
passage  in  these  three  chapters  concerning  the 
diction,  that  strictly  relates  to  the  subject— the 
diction  of  2ragedj/,  as  distinguished  from  that  of 
the  Epic,  and  other  species.  It  is  a  hint  onljr; 
but  a  pregnant  hint,  and  one  that  mi^ht  furnish 
matter  for  a  dissertation  of  some  length.     How 

^ frequently. 


VOL.  II, 


*  Nqte  166. 

r 


11  "'" 


w. 


iii  '  NOTES. 

frequently,  even  in  the  best  Tragedies,  do  we  see 
the  Poet,  as  it  were,  through  the  actor ;  hear  him 
indulgins:  himself  in  his  ofwn  language,  instead  of 
imitating  that  of  his  characters;  substituting  de- 
clamation for  passion,  describing  when  he  should 
e.rpress^;  and,  in  the  unrestrained  and  epic  ele- 
vation  of  his   diction,    losing   all   sight  of  that 
natural  language,  of  which,  undoubtedly,  the  lan- 
guage of  Tragedy  should  be,  according  to   the 
precept  here  implied  by  Aristotle,  only  an  improved 
imtation.     This  improvement,  indeed,  admits  of 
more  or  less,  but  should,  at  least,  bear  always  the 
same  proportion  to  what  we  conceive  would  be 
the  natural  language  *  of  the  persons  who  speak. 


;»5T 


in 


*»  See  Diss.  I.  vol.  i.  p.  25,  &c. 

*  What  I  here  call  natural  language  is,  by  no  means, 
confined  to  simple  2ind  familiar  language.  See  note  226, 
and  Dr.  Hurd's  note  on  v.  94  of  the  Ep.  to  the  Pisos, 
there  referred  to.  To  which  I  must  add  the  judicious 
observations  communicated  to  the  public,  long  after  this 
note  was  written,  by  Mr.  Mason,  in  his  memoirs  of 
Mr.  Whitehead,  p.  58,  59,  60.  I  pcrfecdy  agree  with 
what  is  there  said — that  the  Tragic  style  not  only  admits, 
but  demands,  *'  the  use  of  strong  images,  metaph(;rs,  and 
^'figures;'*  that  **  it  cannot,  indeed,  be  truly  impassioned 
*'  without  them  v"  and  that  "  while  it  discards  unmean- 
*^  ing  epithets,  it  should  be  liberal  of  those,  that  add  force 
"  and  vigour  to  the  sentiment."  Nor  is  all  this  in  any 
degree  incompatible  with  such  imitation,  such  improved 
imitation,  of  cowmion  speech,  ('OTIMAA12TA  x$iw 
fU(xsi(7&at,)  as  Aristotle  attributes  to  Tragic  diction,  which 
he  does  not  require  to  be  confined  to  common  and  ordinary 

expression, 


NOTES;  ^^ 

ih  the  situation,  whatever  it  may  be,  of  the  scene 
before  us.     For  this  last!  cifCuhistance  makes  a 
great  difference.     Tragedy  has  its  «>y«  ^,^,  Hts 
comparatively  ■' idk  parts,"  as  well  ds  the  Epic 
Poem' ;  and,  considering  how  rare  the  talent  is  of 
true  poetic  fancy,  and  poetic  expression,  the  critic, 
who  would  rigorously  exclude  them  from  evay- 
part  of  Tragedy,  must  be  an  Ariphrades,  or  a 
EucM.—The  first  speech  of  Caractacus,  in  Mr. 
Mason  s  exquisite  drama,  is  highly  poetical.    Pos-^ 
sibly,  a  severe  critic  might  wish  it  somewhat  less 
so ;— but  we  have  so  little  of  such  Poetry !— No' 
Poet,  however,  knows  better  than  Mr.  Mason, 
when  the  simpler  tone  of   nature    and  passion 
should  take  place.     When  Caractacus  is  exhorted 
by  the  Druids  to  "  bethink  him"— 

if  ought  on  this  vain  earth 

Still  holds  too  firm  an  union  with  his  soul, 
Estranging  it  from  peace  -  -  « 
he  answers, 

I  had  a  Queen : — 

Bear  with  my  weakness,  Druid !— This  tough 
bieast 

Must  heave  a  sigh— for  she  is  unreveng'd. 
And  can  I  taste  true  peace,  she  unreveng'd  ? 
—So  chaste,  so  lov'd  a  queen !— ah,  Evelina, 
^ ..         Hang 


expression,  («,fw.)  but  expressly  allows  it  to  use  also 
metaphors,  and  (pithets :  to  *«.<.»,  hcu  META*0PA,  km 
K0SM02.  cap.  xxii. 

!  Cap.  xxiv.  Transl.  Fart  III.  Sett,  6. 

Y  a 


f ': 


IH  .NOTES. 

Hang  not  thus  weeping  on  the  feeble  amr 
That  could  not  save  thy  mother.  -  -  - 

Tkc  reader  will  find  some  excellent  obser- 
lUtionsr  on  this  subject  in  Dr.  Beattie's  Essav  on 
Poetry,  &c.  Part  II.  chap^  i.  Sect.  i.  p.  224^  &c. 
and  Sect.  3.  p.  267,  268,  where  a  charming 
example  of  simple  Tragic  language  is  given  froni 
Othdlo  \ 

With  respect  to  the  Greek  Tragedy,  its  earliest 
language  appears  to  have  been  of  a  low  and 
burlesque  kind— the  Afgi?  yiXoix  of  its  satyric 
origin,  conveyed  in  the  suitable  vehicle  of  the 
dancing  tetrameter  \  When  it  was  reformed  and 
dignified,  (aVio-i^ywfin,)  Ho?na*  was  the  model ;  and 
jEscHYLUS,  with  a  conception  naturally  sublime, 
and  the  Iliad  before  him,  raised  the  tone  of  Tra- 
gedy above  its  proper  pitch,  not  only  to  the  pomp 
of  the  EpiCy  but  even,  frequently,  to  the  wild, 
and  tumid,  and  dark  audacity  of  the  Dithi/raynbic : 
so  that,  sometimes,  as  extremes  will  meet,  the 
Afjiff  yiXcicty  which  he  took  so  much  pains  to  avoid, 
can^  round  and  met  him,  in  the  shape  of  bombast^ 
at  the  very  moment  when  he  thought  himself  at  the 
greatest  distance  from  it.  There  could  not  well 
be   any  thing  in  the  theatrical  cart  of  Thespis 

more 


^  In  his  note,  Dr.  Bcattic  has  "  translated  it  into 
ihe  finical  style."  But  _we  gee  plainly,  d^at  he  is  by 
ttjuch  too  good  a  Poet  to  succeed  well  in  spoiling  good 
Poetry. 

*  Cap.  iv.  Traml.  Part  I.  Sect.  7. 


NOTES.  325 

more  laughable,  than  to  call  smoke  *'  the  hrotJier 
offre,''  and  dust,  the  "  brother  of  mud\'' 

Sophocles  reduced  the  general  language  of 
his  dialogue  to  a  more  equable  and  sober  dignity, 
but  still,  Homer,  we  know,  was  his  great  model  * ; 
and  of  his  diction  it  may,  perhaps,  be  said,  that 
It  is  often  Epic,  though  his  measure  is  Iambic. 
Most  modern  readers,  however,  will,  I  believe 
think  it,  (as  mc  ai^e  told  many  antient  readers 
did^,)  more  adapted  to  the  genius  of  Tragedy 
than 

^  Tlu^^  Kaa-iv.   Sept.  contra  Theb.\,  ^QQ,'^^)caa-ii 'jrrirjd 

novi^.  Agam,  503. — The  commentators  are  very  amusing, 
when  they  admire  this,  and  tell  us,  it  is  the  same  thing 
iis  the  beautiful  expression  of  xp<rfa5  t«vov  i-Kml^,  ap- 
plied to  the  Oracle,  in  the  Oedipus  of  Sophocles,  [v.  161], 
the  :^a^o^H  yaias  rzxva  of  iEsthylus,  applied  to  flowers 
[Pers,  620.]  or  the  "  Syha  film  nob'ttis,''  of  Horace. 
[See  *Burton's  Pentalogla,  and  Stanley's  notes  oh  ^schy- 
lus.]  De  Pauw,  indeed,  finds  fault;  but  he  is  equally 
diverting  in  another  way.  liis  note  upon  xaa-ii  7ry\\v,  is — 
"  Inepte :  pulvis  ille  est  ipsum  lutum  arefactum  et  com- 
"  minutum :  oculati  vident  statimy — It  is  to  be  observed, 
that  both  these  metaphors  orf  ^sdiylus  are  in  the  dialogue 
part.  Dante  has  a  riddling  metapiioricai  expression  of 
the  same  kind,  but  much  more  pocticaj.  He  c^is  a  hoar 
/rost,  the  ihter  of  snow, 

Quando  la  brina  in  su  la  terra,  asserapra 

L'imagine  di  sua  sorella  bianca. 

Jnfcrno,  Canto  xxiv.  v.  4,  5. 

SuidaSy    V.    PoLEMoN.    Diog,   Laert.lY,    20. —  to    tto-v 
'Ofjin^iMu^  uvofjia^B.  Auctor  Vita  Sophociis, 

^  Namque  is,  (Euripides,)  et  m  sermone  (quod  ipsum 
reprchpndunt  ^uibus  gravitas  et  cothurnus  et  sonus  Sophociis 

y  3  vjdetur 


tl 


# 


3?6  NOTES. 

than  that  of  Euripides;  who  seems  to  have 
been  regarded  by  the  antients  as  the  first  who 
brought  down  the  language  of  Tragedy  into  unison 
with  the  rtmimre,  so  tliat  tlie  one  bore  the  same 
degree  of  resemblance  to  common  speech  in  its 
^xprtsaions,  as  the  other  did  in  its  rhythm.  At 
least,  this  appears  to  have  been  Aristotle's  opinion, 
irom  a  passage  in  his  Rhetoric,  where,  after  having 
explained  the  difference  between  the  diction  of 
Oratory  and  that  of  Poetry,  and  the  foundation 
of  that  difference,  he  observes,  that  such  a  degree 
of  embellishment  as  forces  on  the  hearer  the  idea 
of  art,  and  labour,  and  preparation,  is  to  be 
avoided,  not  only  by  the  Orator,  but  even  by  the 
Poet,  if  he  would  be  natural  and  affecting ;  and 
he  compares  such  evidently  artificial  language  to 
the  voices  of  the  generality  of  actors,  as  opposed 
to  the  voice  of  Thcodorus,  which  always  appeared 
to  be  the  real  voice  of  the  character  he  perso- 
nated ;  whereas  their  voices  were  evidently  feign- 
ed K  He  then  adds — "  The  best  way  to  conceal 
artifice,  and  make  your  language  appear  easy 
^'  and  natural,  is,  by  forming  it,  chiefly,  of  Oie 
*^  words  and  phrases  of  customary  speech,  pro- 
perly, ^e/ec/et/;   as  Euripides  does,  who  first 


"  set  the  example 


k  » 


A  pas- 


videtur  esse  sublimior,)  magis  accedit  oratorio  geueri. — 
QuintiU  X.  I. 

*  Sec  Diss,  I.  vol.  i.  p.  6i.  note  '. 

—  Sfi  "hay^cLmv  fromyroif  um,  fit)  5b««v  xsyuv  vE'7r>ji(rfi£va}^, 


NOTE     S.  327 

A  passage  that  precedes  this,  deserves  to  be 
given  entire,  fi*om  its  close  connection  with  the 
subject  of  this  part  of  the  treatise  on  Poetiy,  and 
the  curious,  though  short,  sketch  it  contains  of  the 
histmy  of  Tragic  diction. 

As  the  Poets  appeared  to  owe  their  repu- 
tation to  their  language,  which  never  failed  to 
be  admired,  however  foolish  and  absurd   the 
matter  it  conveyed ;  on  this  acco»ot,  ev^nprose 
'*  diction  was,  at  first,  poetical,  like  that  of  Gor^/fl,y. 
And  even  now,  they,  who  use  such  language, 
are   looked  upon,  by  illiterate  people,  as   the 
finest  speakers ;  which  is  far  frqm  being  true ; 
for  oratorical  diction,  and  poetical  diction,   are 
**  different  things.     And  as  a  proof  of  this,  we  see 
what  has  actually  happened:   for  now,    even 
among  the  Poets  themselves,  those  who  write 
Tragedy  no  longer  make  use  of  that  sort  of  lan- 
guage ;  but,  as  ^they  had  exchanged  the  Troctiaic 
verse  for  the  Iambic,  because  ^^^^^  of  all  metres, 
approaches  the  nearest  to  common'speech;  so 
now,  they  have  also  discarded  all  those  words 
and  phrases,  so  remote  from  common  speech, 
with  which  the  earlier   Tragic  Poets  used  to 
embellish  theii*  diction,  and  which  are  still  em- 
ployed 


a 


ic 


u 


a 


•  t( 


u 


it 


it 


it 


it 


u 


it 


it 


it 


it 


it 


it 


KM    OlOV   V    0f  o3af «    ^uvtl  'JTEVOV&e    'JT^  TttV  TftJV  aXXW?  UTTOXPlTtav  • 

^    «!/,    k(X9  rig   EH  Tuf  tlaitjuiag    ^laXEma    hMym  (rwriQn'    ottzo 
Evfi^rAj  5r««,  KAi 'TIIfiAEIHE  nPaXOS.   RlutMh  2. 

y  4 


A 


328  NOTES. 

^'  ployed  by  those  who  write  Hexameters.  It 
^'  would  be  ridiculous,  therefore,  to  imitate  the 
*'  Poets^n  a  language,  which  they  themselves  have 
-^  abandoncfl  as  improper  V 

The  Abb6  Batteux,  by  understanding  *V|3£iok 
here  to  mean  Iambic,  or  satirical,  Poems,  has, 
unluckily,  thrown  away  the  only  passage  in  these 
three  chapters,  that  was  strictly  to  Aristotle's  pur- 
pose. He  bS!s,  also,  with  Dacier,  misrepresented 
his  meaning,  by  rendering—**  ne  pent  recevoir  quh 
"  ce  qui  est  employ^  dans  la  conversation/'  We 
are,  undoubtedly,  to  understand,  MAAISTA  d^fxar-  ' 
ni,  as  before :  for  that  Aristotle  did  not  mean 
absolutely  to  exclude  the  other  Poetic  words— the 
double,  fhe  foreign,  &c.  from  every  part  of  the 
Tragic  dialogue,  is  plain  from  his  allowing  the 
occasional  use  of  them  even  in  p?vse.  Ilhct.  III.  2. 
p-585,  C.    7.  p.  590,  E.    591,  A. 

ro^t^uffOat  Twh  rvi¥  ^o4w  ^  mro,  v!Oinrucn  v^ami  iymro 
)^liy  Uov  fi  To^yta '  uai  lyy  in  hi  «o^Xo<  Ta;y  aviauhm^v  ths 
roiHTitf  otoyrcu  ^mMyEaSc^  ita>>uTa.  T«to  h  ix  irn,  ojg: 
hs^aJ^OYH  KM  Tsomimi  >^i  ert.  ArtXot  3f  to  cru^fiaivov  sh 
yof  ot  TOi  r^ayui^iog  wo.^mj  hi  x^c^vrat  lov  aurov  t^otsov* 
a^  07Vi^Km  m  TiTpa^^eTpoir  1/5  ro  lufx&iiGV  ^£TF^>j(r«v,  ha  to 
rip  X079,  ""^o  TQV  fm^(0M  iutciomrov  mau  luv  iv^v  •  irw  ksh 
T«r  ova^cxTTuiv  a(pnua(Ttv,  gaa  ma^a  tw  ^<aXf*TOv  inv  hi^  ^  hi 
w^WT^v  iHOcriAHyy  xgii  m  n/y  q  T(»  E^a^sTfa  isoiuvjn,  wpma<Ti. 
[The  rei^etitipn  of  aipmicri,  here,  ha^  much  il^e  appeal  ancc 
of -error.  I  sus^^ct  we  sl^ould  read  thu? :  ;^t«  moi  T^jy 
ovoixaTi^„,  g^a  TBo^a  T7JV  3a;^«*T9y  kiv,  pij  0',  or,  oi^JE,  P<  -arf^rq^ 
f*9^^  jcpw~WW8VTfj,  apJiWKTi.]  ho  ysXom  fjufxii(r9cu  tstbj,  ^i 
mpTQi  kn  m  x^(^vTcu  Uetm  tw  r^oisu,     R/ut,  HI.  i,  />.  ^84/ 


N    O    T    E    S. 


3*9 


KOTE    210. 

P.  177-  Eyf:N  jy  jHiiS,  theeefore,  &c, 
HcTn  xa»  rxvrvi.'^Hh—alreadj/'-^ven  in  tlie 
/m  operation  of  his  genius— the  very  choice 
pf  hi3  subject,  and  formation  of  his  plan.  Such 
appears  to  me  to  be  the  force  of  i,V„  in  this  passage, 
Mhich,  I  think,  is  injured  by  those  commentator! 
Mho  punctuate—fiJo-^ri^  il^ofxi,  ^^v~''as  we  have 
alreadjj  said,'*, 

NOTE  211, 

P.  177-    He  has,  fhom  the  rest,  intro- 
duced MANY  Episodes — . 

Nuv    h,    Iv    fAip^    dwoXct^ujy^    WH(rohoii  xf;5^^„t«i 

ATTriN  TToAXo^f.— 1.  e.  as  the  commentators  explain 
it,  of  the  other  parts  of  the  war.  But,  what  should 
Me  think  of  this  English—-  Selecting  one  part 
^*  of  the  war,  he  introduces  many  episodes  of 
''  them?''  If  Aristotle  meant  the  other  parts  of 
the  war,  auV^v  must,  surely,  be  wrong :  if  «,V«, 
be  right,  I  confess  I  cannot  see  xvhat  he  meant 
I  wi3h  we  had  manuscript  authority  for  the  auVOT 
of  Hewsius,  which  is  adopted  and  explained  bj 
Le  Bossu,  II.  5,  and  6.— But  a  learned  friend  has 
suggested  to  me  a  conjecture  still  more  probable; 
that  Aristotle  wrote  AAAXiN.     Nv.  h,  'en  ,.5^©! 

dwoXa(i(,y,  lnti(ro$mg    Xix^nrxi    AAAIIN    [sc.   fxtocoy] 

aroA/oK.  "  Selecting  one  part  only  of  the  war, 
"  he  has,  from  other  parts,  introduced  many 
^'  Episodes,"  &c,  ^ 


330 


NOTES. 


NOTE    212. 

P.  178.    The  author  of  the  Cypriacs, 

AND    OF    THE    LIT'ILE    IhlAD. 

To  the  authors  usually  referred  to  on  the  subject 
of  these  Poems,  it  may  now  be  useful  to  add 
Heyne,  E:vcursu  primo  ad  JEn,  II.  p.  228,  229— 
a  very  learned  and  curious  dissertation  concerning 
the  writers  on  the  Trojan  war. 

NOTE  213. 
P.  179-     The  fall  of  Thoy.        r 
See  Heyne,  Excursti primo  ad  Mn.  II.  p.  230,  231. 

KOTE    214. 

P.  179.  Homer  gave  both  the  first,  and 

THE    most    perfect,    EXAMPLE. 

'Ok  aVao-iv  'O^d^^  ^^Xt^^^^'y  KAI  w^m^,  KAI 
ixaj/wf.— *'  Neque  quemquam  alium,  cujus  operis 
"  primus  auctor  fuerit,  in  eo  perfect imjnum, 
"  praeter  Homerum,  et  Archilochum,  reperie- 
"  mus."     VelL  Patenulus,  I.  5. 

Victorius,  and  other  commentators,  have,  I 
think,  done  some  injustice  to  the  force  of  Aristotle  & 
expression  here,  by  taking  tlie  adverb,  ;x«^a,c,  too 
literally.  They  render  it— ^^  ita  ut  satis  putari 
"'  debeatr  (Vict.)  —  ^^  accurate  satisr  (GouU 
Stan.)  (^T.— Tliis  gives  the  xvord,  indeed,  but  falls 
short  of  the  meaning,  which  Castelvetro  alone  has, 
^  *  accord  ina 


NOTES.  33t 

according  to    my    idea,    adequately  expressed: 

"  Gran  lode  h  quella,  che  h  data  da  Aristotele  ad 

''  Homero,  che  egli  sia  stato  ii  primo,  che  abbia 

"  usate  tutte  e  quattro  le  spetie  deir  Epopca,  &c.— 

''  e  le  babbia  usate,,^pe  &  perfettamente:'  And 

his  translation  is-p-^'  Le  quali  cose  tutte  Homero 

''  \^o,eprimiero,eferfettqmemer  Undoubtedly, 

the  literal  meaning  of  /xavw;  is,  sufficiently  well  ; 

but  in  Poetry  nothing  is  sufficiently  well,  that  is 

not  as  well,  or  nearly  as  well,  as  possible :  and, 

fartlier^  if  I  aai  not  mistaken,  the  Greek  writers, 

not  unfrequently,  use  Ikm^^   and   /xayw?,  as  t.ie 

Italians  use  the  word  assai ;  sometimes  for  enouo'h 

(which,  I  suppose,  is  the  primary  signification  of 

assaij  and   sometimes  for  muchy  a  great  deal, 

,'very,  &c.    *lxixuny--(ioxii<rocv,  nOAAHN.  Hcsych. 

NOTE    215. 

p.  180.    If  THE  Epic  Poem  were  reduced 

FROM  ITS  ANTIENT  LENGTH,  SO  AS  NOT  TO 
EXCEED  THAT  OF  SUCH  A  NUMBER  OF  TRA- 
GEDIES AS  ARE  PERFORMED  SUCCESSIVELY  AT 
ONE    HEARING. 

If  we  knew  certainly,  how  many  Tragedies  were 
performed  at  one  hearing,  [lU  fj^^av  ax^oao-iy,)  we 
should  know,  with  equal  certainty,  to  what  length 
Aristotle  thought  the  Epic  Poem  ought  to  be  re- 
duced, in  order  to  be  perfectly,  or  sufficiently, 
f uVui/OTTT^v.     But,  unfortunately^  the  premises  here 

are 


i 


33^  NOTES, 

are  not  less  obscure  than  the  conclusion;  the  in- 
formation to  be  picked  up  in  antient  authors,  rela- 
tive to  the  Tragic  contests  and  the  Tetralogice^ 
being  extremely  imperfect  and  unsatisfactory. 
I^t  us  however  try,  what  little  glimmering  of  light 
may  be  thrown  upon  thi^  subject,  from  those 
authors,  or  from  the  nature  of  tlie  thing  itself. 

The  general  principle,    upon  which  Aristotle 
here  fixes  the  length  of  an  Epic  Poem,  is  the  same 
with  that,  upon  which  he  fixes  the  length  of  a 
Tragedy :    viz.    "  that  it  should  be  such  as  to 
admit  of  our  comprehending,  at  one  view,  the 
beginning  and  tlie  end.     And  this,"  he  goes  on, 
would  be  the  case,  were  it  reduced  from  its 
antient  length,  so  as  not  to  exceed  that  of  such 
a  number  of  Tragedies,  as  are  performed  suc- 
cessively at  one  hearing."     Here  then  is  a  rule, 
which,  at  the  time  he  wrote  it,  was  as  clear  and 
determinate,  as  if  he  had  expressly  said,  that  an 
Epic  Poem  ought  not  to  exceed  a  certain  number 
of  verses.     But,  as  an  ingenious  friend  has  su^r- 
gested  to  me,  "  he  probably  chose  to  put  his  rule 
in  tlie  way  he  has  put  it,  rather  than  in  thii 
latter  way,  as  wishing  to  qoqyey  an  intimation, 
that  the  length  of  an  Epic  Poem  should  be  such, 
as  would  admit  of  its  being  fairly  recited,  or 
read,  in  a  single  day." 
It  seems  to  have  b^en  a  comiponly  received 
opinion,  thjit  the  four  dramas  of  each  Poet,  which 
ppmposed  the  Tc/r^/ogv^,  were  always  performed 

»t 


<( 


ti 


u 


it 


$i 


ti 


ti 


n 


u 


a 


NOTE    S.  335 

at  one  hearing— in  one  day*.  In  tliis  case,  if 
o??e  Poet  only  produced  his  Tetralogia,  there  could 
be  but  four  Tragedies ;  if  tziVy  there  must  be 
eight ;  if  three,  twelve,  and  so  on  :  there  could  be 
no  intermediate  numbers.  In  so  obscure  a  sub- 
ject, I  certainly  shall  not  take  upon  me  to  decide. 
The  passage,  however,  commonly  adduced,  I 
believe,  as  tlie  principal  authority  in  this  matter, 
from  Diogenes  Laertius,  appears  to  me  to  be 
against  tliis  supposition.     The  words  are  these  : 

Ex£i»o*    [sc.    Tragici]    T5T^«<ri    ^^a^ao-iv    Yiym^!;^oy70y 
Aiovufl-ioK,  Anvatoi?,  navafluka*o»f/  Xur^otf,  dv  to  TtTaco- 

TiT^«Xoy»«  *.— Here  are  fou?-  festivals,  and  four 
dramas;  and  the  most  obvious  meaning  of  the 
passage,  surely,  is,  tliat  each  contending  Poet' 
produced,  not  his  entire  Tetralogia  at  the  same 
festival,  but  one  Tragedy  only  at  each  different 
festival.  And  so  Is.  Casaubon  appeal^  to  have 
understood  it.  "  Qaot  Athenis  Liberalia  agita- 
'*  bantur,  tot  fabulas  diversas  a  Tragicis  Poetis 
"  doceri  solitas  legimus  \''  But  it  seems  dif- 
ficult  to  reconcile  this  account  w  itli  what  is  gene- 
rally, I  think,  said,  and  what  Casaubon  himself  has 
elsewhere  said,  of  the  satyric  piece;  viz.  that  it 
was  played  betueen,  or  after,  the  serious  Trage- 
dies, on  each  festival,  by  way  of  relaxation  and 
relief. 

»  See  Dacier,  p.  1 18.  »  Diog,  Lacrt.  11 L  56. 

**  Dc  Sa{)T.  Graec.  Pocs.  lib.  i.  cap,  5. 


I 


4     ■    M 


334  NOTES, 

relief  ^  For,  to  say,  that  of  the  four  dramas 
exhibited  by  each  Poet  on  the  four  different 
festivals,  the  fourth  was  a  satyric  drama,  ( Jk  tj 
TETAPTON  7[v  (rarv^ixop^)  is  to  say,  pretty  plainly, 
^that  all  the  satyric  pieces  were  performed  together' 
at  the  fourth  and  last  festival,  the  Xurf  o*.  And  sa 
indeed  some  commentators  seem  to  have  under- 
stood it  ^  Perhaps  the  matter  might,  not  unrea- 
sonably, be  compromised,  by  supposing  the  rule, 
in  fact,  to  have  been,  that,  of  the  different  Poets' 
contending  on  each  day,  one  should  always  produce 
the  satyric  drama  of  his  Tetralogia,  and  that  drama* 
,  always  close  the  exhibition  of  the  day. — But  I  for- 
bear to  indulge  conjecture  farther  upon  this  dark 
subject.     Let  us  return  to  Aristotle  and  his  rule. 

Dacier  tells  us,  very  gravely,  that  tzvelve,  and 
sometimes  sirteen,  Tragedies  were  performed  in 
one  day ' :  an  account,  which,  upon  the  very  face 
of  it,   exceeds  all  bounds  of  probability.     It  i^ 

' rathet^ 

■-""^''^^  I      ■  ■■  '^  PM.   —         ■■        II        ■  ■>■■■■      I  11,1-,,  ,a 

*  De  Satyr.  Graec.  Poes.  Ii3.  i.  cap.  iii.  p.  128. 

^  Chyiris]  Genus  hoc  certaminis  satyrici  fuit,  ut  ex 
Laertii  verbis  apparct,  in  quo,  dramate  iatyrorum  propria 
Certarctur,     Dio,  Laert,  ed,  MeihAlL  56,  note  205. 

'  P.  llB,  note  15. — This  reminds  one  of  the  accoun^ 
given  of  Chinese  plays,  "  dont  la  representation  dure  dix 
*'  ou  douze  jours  de  suite,  en  y  comprenant  la  nuit; 
*»  jusqu'  a  ce  que  les  spectateurs  &  les  acteurs  las  de  so 
"  succeder  eternellement,  en  allant  boire,  manger,  dormir 
**  &  continuer  la  piece,  ou  assister  au  spectacle,  sans  que 
"  rien  y  soit  interrompu,  se  retirent  enfin  tous,  commc 
**  de  concert/*     Brumoy,  T/:eatre  des  Grccs,  I.  53. 


NOTES.  33^ 

rather  difikult  to  conceive,  that  the  representation 
of  a  single  Tragedy  couWtake  up  less  time  than 
three  hours.     If  however  we  suppose  it  to  have 
taken  up  only  tn^o,  and  also,  what  could  haj'dly  be 
the  case,  that  Tragedy  succeeded  Tragedy  without 
any  intermission,  just  as  scene  succeeded  scene  in 
the  same  piece,  the  whole  exhibition  of  the  dayi* 
according  to   Dacier's   lowest   statement,  would 
have  taken  up  24,  and  according  to  his  highe^ 
32  hours.    But  is  it  conceivable,  that  any  audience,^ 
however  intemperate  their  fondness  for  this  amuse- 
ment, could  sit  so  many  Iwurs  together  to  hear 
Tragedies,  and  to  hear  them  attentively,  so  as  to 
jiidge   of,   and   decide    upon,   their  comparative 
merits  ? — This  account,  therefore,  of  Dacier,  that 
the  number  of  Tragedies  performed    "  at  one 
"*  hearing,"  and  to  tlie  same  audience,   (for  that 
is  implied,)  amounted  to  twelve,  we  may  venture 
at  once  to  reject  as  the  most  palpable  impossibility. 
Shall  we  then  suppose  eight,  the  next  lowest  num- 
ber possible,  on  the  supposition,   that  the  four 
dramas  of  the  Tetralogia  were  exhibited  in  one 
day  ?     The  representation  of  eight  Tragedies,  we 
may  venture  to  say,  could  not  possibly  take  up 
less  time  than  sixteen  hours.     Let  any  man  con- 
ceive himself  sitting  in  a  Theatre,  and  hearing 
Tragedy  after  Tragedy,   from  six  o'clock  in  the 
morning  till  ten  at  night,  and  then  pronounce  as 
to  tlie  probability  of  even  this  supposition.     If  we 
reject  this  number,  and  still  adhere  to  the  common 
•  notion 


1 

1    1I 


I  f^ 


33^  ^7    O    T    E    1 

notion  of  these  exhibitions,  we  shall  be  reduced  i6 
a  single  Tetralogia ;  in  which  case  tliere  can  have 
been  no  rival  exhibition   on    the  same  day.     It 
seems  therefore  impossible  to  adjust  this  matter  in 
any  reasonable  way,  without  supposing,  that  the 
four  dramas  of  the  Tetralogia  were  exhibited  on 
different   festivals:  a  supposition,  I  think,  fairly 
^ducible  from  the  passage  of  Diog.  Laertius  above 
quoted.     A  supposition  too,  which  seems  to  bet 
rendered  more  probable  from  the  very  nature  of 
rival  exhibitions ;  as  each  contending  Poet  wouldi 
then  produce  his  drama  at  the  same  hearing,  each 
hearing  would  be  a  distinct  day  of  contest,  and 
there  would  be,  at  each  contest,  a  sufficient  ground 
of  judgment  upon  the  comparative  merits  of  each 
performance.     This  idea  will  allow  us  to  assign 
about  twelve  hours,  as  the  utmost  time  taken  up 
by  the  w  hole  exhibition  of  the  day ;  and  th^  great 
difference  of  length,  which  we   observe    in   tlie 
Greek  Tragedies  that  are  extant,  will  also  allow  us 
to  conclude,  that,  occasionally,  ^t;e,  or  possibly 
even  slv  Tragedies,  might  be  brought  within  that 
compass,  or  nearly  so  ^     On  this  ground,  tlien^ 
; it 

*  See  NOTE  64.  ^.54,  There  are  not  iioo  verses^ 
in  any  of  tlie  seven  Tragedies  of  ^schylus,  excepft  the 
Agamemnon,  Some  of  those  of  Euripides  fall  short  of 
1200  lines;  e.g. — the  Jlcestis,  Heraclida,  Rhesus,  Several 
are  within  1300.  It  should  also  be  considered,  that  the 
satyric  dramas,  which  probably  closed  the  entertainment 
of  the  day,  were,  perhaps,  considerably  shoner  than  the 

serious 


;  >t    O    T    E    8.  33y 

tt  will  appear,  1  believe,  that  the  extent,  to  which 
Aristotle  proposed  to  limit  the  Epic  Poem,  could 
hardly  exceed  that  of  about  7000  lines. 

But,    if  we  admit   this,  we  must   of  course 
admit,  that  lie  meant  to  include  the  Poems  of 
Homer  in  the  number  of  those  which  he  regarded 
as  too  long.     And  that  he  did  so  mean,  however 
unwilling  Dacier  and  other  commentators  are  to 
allow  it,  I  have  no  doubt'.     For,  1,  The  actual 
length  of  those  Poems  seems  sufficiently  to  prove 
this.     The  number  of  lines  in  the  Iliad  is  nearly 
15,000;  in  the  Odyssey,  nearly  12,000.     Now 
whoever  can  believe  it  possible,  that  an  audience 
could  sit,  and  make  a  common  practice  of  sitting, 
22,  or  even  18  hours  together,  to  hear  Tragedies,' 
(which,  at  the  lowest  allowance,  of  txvo  hours  only 
for  the  performance   of  each  piece,  must  have 
been    the    case,    if  Homer's  Poems  fell  within 
Aristotle's    rule,)  may  believe,   that  he  thought 
those  Poems  of  a  proper  length.    Dacier,  indeed, 
^  tells 

serious  Tragedies,  as  is  the  case  with  our  farces ;  at  least 
if  we  may  judge  from  the  only  drama  extant  of  the  kind! 
the  Cyclop,  of  Euripides,  in  which  there  are  but  70Q 
verses.  '   •» 


»  Beni  and  Piccolomini  are  of  my  opinion.  See  their 
cotnmentar.es.  Victorius,  too,  though  bv  afv«,«.  he 
understands  the  Poets  before  Homer's  time,  Tt,  by  hi! 
explanauon  of  Aristotle',  rule,  plainly  supposes  Homer  to 
be  glanced  at;  for  he  makes  the  time,  allowed  by  the 

S^hll^:  V  °"  "'  '"  ^^'  '"""  "  '^  ^"^^ 
VOL  II.  jj 


*  -      f  1 


I 

r 


11 

n 


33»  NOTES. 

tells  us,  that  even  the  Iliad  may  be  read  through 
in  a  single  day  ^.  For  a  wager,  indeed,  I  will  not 
say  what  might  be  done,  if  we  had  reading  races 
at  Newmarket.  But,  2.  Had  Aristotle  meant  to 
except  Homer,  why  not  expressly  except  him? 
Gladly  as  he  appears  to  seize  every  opportunity 
of  giving  the  Poet  his  just  praise,  would  he  not, 
here  also,  have  opposed  his  conduct  to  that  of  other 
Poets,  as  he  has  done  in  so  many  other  instances  ? 
Or  why,  indeed,  refer  us  to  the  number  of  Tra- 
gedies  successively  performed  in  one  day,  when  he 
might  as  well  have  referred  at  once  to  the  Iliad, 
or  the  Odyssey  ?  All  this  seems  to  leave  no  doubt, 
that  he  thought  those  Poems  drawn  out  to  too 
great  a  length.  And  this  is  also  conformable  to 
what  he  afterwards  says,  of  the  advantage  which 
the  Tragic  has  above  the  Epic  Poem  in  this  cir- 
cumstance, that  it  effects  its  purpose  "  in  a  shorter 
compass'^  —  %¥  sAatxTow  /tATiJu**.  I  do  not  forget 
what  he  had  said  in  the  preceding  chapter — that 
if  Homer  had  taken  the  whole  war  for  his  subject, 
his  Poem  zvould  not  hcwe  been  fuVuvoTrrok :  which,  it 
may  be  urged,  implies,  that  he  thought  it  was 
fuVukOTrroi^  as  Homer  had' managed  it,  and  therefore 
not  too  long.    But  the  contradiction  here  is  merely 

apparent. 

""  -''  L'lliade,  rOdyssee,  &  TEnei'de,  sont  entiere- 
"  ment  conformes  a  la  regie  d*Aristote:  elles  peuvent 
**  etre  leues  chacune  dans  un  seul  jour."    P.  415. 

^  Cap,  ult.  —  The  proverbial  expression,  frnx^oTs^of 
IamiJ®-,  is  well  known. 


NOTES.  339 

apparent.  The  fuVui/oirrov  admits  of  defn-ees; 
and  all  that  Aristotle  appears  to  mean,  in  the  pas- 
sage before  us,  is,  that  the  Poems  of  Homer  would 
have  been  more  ruVukOTrra,  and,  in. that  respect, 
more  perfect,  had  they  been  shorter. 

But,  to  return  once  more  to  the  dramatic  exhi- 
bitions—the  time  of  tu^e/ve  hours  seems  to  be  the 
very  utmost  that  can  reasonably  be  allowed,  and 
is  more,   I  beHeve,  than  will  readily  be  allowed, 
without  considering  the  particular  character  of  the 
Athenians,  and  the  circumstances  attending  these 
theatrical  exhibitions.     The  intemperate  fondness 
of  tliat  people  for  these  amusements  is  w  ell  known ; 
and   Aristotle  himself  gives  us  a  pretty  strong 
picture  of  it,  when  he  says,  though  only  in  the  way 
of  hyperbolical  supposition,    "  if  a   hundred 
Tragedies  were  to  be  exhibited  in' concurrence \" 
We  must,  also,  consider  the  mrietj/  of  subjects  in 
the  different  Tragedies  performed,  and,  indeed,  the 
variety  resulting  from  the  very  nature  of  the  Greek 
drama,  with  its  choral  troop,  its  odes,  its  accom- 
paniments of  music  and  dance :  the  relief,  also,  of 
the  satiric  drama,  which  closed  tlie  performance 
by  way  of  Farce;  the  pleasure  ,of  comparing  the 
rival  Poets  and  actors,  the  zeal  of  party  in  favour 
of  this,  or  that,  particular  Poet  or  performer,  &c.— 
And  we  may  add  to  all  this  a  curious  circumstance 
•fn  the  dramatic  histoiy  of  the  Greeks;  that  the 
people  never  sate  dtnroi   ^icc^^vng,  but  eat,  and 
-- drank, 

^  Part  II.  Sect,  4.— Grig,  cap,  vii.     See  note  64. 

Z    2 


Si  n 


340  NOTES. 

drank,  and  regaled  themselves  with  cakes,  and 
nuts,  and  wine,  during  the  performance,  like  an 
English  audience  at  Sadler's  Wells,  or  Bartho- 
lomew Fair  \ 

In  the  whole  theatrical  system  of  the  antients, 
and  every  thing  relating  to  it,  all  seems  to  have 
been  proportionably  vast,  extravagant,  and  gigantic. 
Their  immense  theatres,  their  colossal  dresses,  the 
stilts,  buskins,  or  heroic  pattens,  on  which  the 
actor  was  mounted",  their  masks  that  covered 
the  whole  head,  their  loud,  chanting,  and  speaking- 
trumpet  declamation  ° — all  this  is  upon  the  same 
scale  with  the  intemperate  eagerness  of  the  people 
for  these  amusements,  the  number  of  Tragedies 
exhibited  in  one  day,  and,  we  may  add,  the  almost 
incredible  number  said  to  have  been  written  even 
by  their  best  Poets. — Would  not  this  last  circum- 
stance alone,  supposing  not  a  single  drama  to  have 
been  preserved,  have  furnished  a  reasonable  proof, 
€tprio?Hy  or,  at  least,  a  strong  presumption,  that 
the  Greek  Tragedy  must  have  been,  in  many 
respects, 

'  See  Athen.  p.  464,  F.  and  Casaui.  Jnimadvers. 
p.  779,  and  the  passage  there  cited  from  Aristotle's 
Ethic.  Nlcom. 

"  The  reader  will  find  a  curious  description  of  the 
dress  and  figure  of  die  antient  Tragic  actors  in  Lucian's 
treatise  De  Salt.  p.  924.  ed.  Ben.  and  De  Gymnas,  p.  406, 
415.  But  he  will  allow  something  for  the  exaggerations 
of  a  man  of  humour.    See  also,  the  Galtus,  p.  263. 

°  See  Dr.  Burney't  Hiit.  of  Music,  I.  p,  154,  and 
P/.IV.i^/f.  1,2,3. 


NOTES.  3^, 

respects,  a  simple,  unequal,  imperfect  thing,  just 
such  as,  m  fact,  and  prejudice  apart,  we  find  it  to 
be'.?  Sophocles,  confessedly  the  most  correct 
and  pohshcd  of  the  three  g.-eat  Tragic  Poets, 
js  said  to  have  written  above  an  hundred  Tra' 
gedies  ^ 

NOTE    216.  -         . 

p.  181.     For,  in  this  respect  aiso,  the 

NARRATIVE     IMITATION     IS    ABUNDANT,    AND 
VARIOUS,    BEYOND    THE    REST. 

-.f  .rr,  IS  rendered,  by  almost  all  the  commentators 
exima,  prastantior,  more  excellent,  than  the  other 
imitations;  which  makes  Aristotle  directly  con 
tradict  himself.     And  this  Victorius  allows,  at  the 
same  time  that  he  adheres  to  that  sense  :-'♦  »r^, 
;;  tantwrem  esse  [hanc  poesin]  inter  cceteras    et 
altiorem  locum  temrer    How  this  can  be  re 
oonciled  with  the  critic's  decided  preference  of 
Tragedy  m  the  last  cliapfer,  I  do  not  see      T 
believe  Dacier  is  right,  in  giving  to  ..j,.„,  i„'this 
passage,  the  sense  of,   more  abundant~\^  plus 
excessive  de  toutes ".     The  text,  however,  appears 


See  NOTE  ^^,  voJ.  i. 

K,.»  I^^  ?"""  "^T  *'  ^'"^'^ '°  *^  ^^^'J  ^Y  Robortelli  • 
but  he  understands  ;r.f.rr,  r«,  oMo^-^bundant  in  cthe'r 
i/nnss  also  :  a  sense  which,  I  believe,  the  phrase  will  „ot 
bear;  bes.des  that,  for  this  purpose,  the  «„  should  ^ 
otherwise  placed— oai  rm  oMvt^  . 

Z3 


« 


It 


I 


\4 


342  NOTES. 

to  me  to  be  defective :  for  wliat  becomes  of  the 
x«»,  which  Dacier,  and  other  translators,  have  been 
forced  to  neglect  ?  The  only  fair  version  of  the 
passage,  as  we  now  read  it,  is  this : — "  for  the 
narrative  imitatioji  also,  is  more  abundant,"  &c. 
KAI  n'  $iy\y.  /txijt*. — of  which  I  can  make  no  reason- 
able sense. — Farther,  some  word  seems  wanting, 
to  express  in  what  the  Epic  is  iri^irj^ ;  and  this 
Dacier  found  himself  obliged  to  supply  in  his 
translation  and  note :  eii  cela  la  plus  excessive-r-. 
I  cannot,  therefore,  help  suspecting,  that  mroK; 
[sc.  fswHOi?  oj/o/Aacrt],  or  rather  t«ut>j,  has  been 
omitted ;  and  that  we  should  read  thus — wi^irm 

yoc^,  xoci  TATTH»,  i  hf\yriiM»rmr\  jtxijsxtjert?  tuv  dXXuv  , 

**  In  this  respect  too'' — alluding  to  the  several 
other  respects  mentioned  in  this  chapter,  in  which 
the  Epic  imitation  was  in^irrn  rm  «aawv  :  as,  in 
the  time  of  its  action,  and  the  length  of  the  Poem 
itself;  in  its  Episodes,  and  the  variety  and  jutya- 
AoTTf  £7r£*a  arising  from  them,  and  fi'om  the  admission 
of  contemporary  events ;  in  the  degree,  also,  to 
^vhich  it  admits  of  the  uofidcrful,  and  'even  the 
incredible  \  This,  also,  agrees  perfectly  with  what 
he   had   said,   cap.  xxii.   x«»  ly   i^iv  tok  ij^wixoi^ 

*»  So  above,   cap.  xxiii.— KAI  TATTHi  da^fat®-  a» 

'  See  what  presently  follows  in  this  chapter  :  Part  III. 
Sect,  4.  of  the  translation. 


NOTES. 


343 


NOTE    217. 

P.  181.  Have  more  motion. 
KtvtiTix*.  The  scruple  of  Victorius,  who  pro- 
posed to  read  xij/Tira,  from  a  doubt,  whether 
xivijTixflt  would  admit  of  a  passive  sense,  seems 
to  have  been  ill-founded.  The  passage  in  Plu- 
tarch, De  primo  frigidoy  referred  to  by  Goulston 
in  his  note,  is  this:  m  |3^aJ^«a  xa*  ZTAXIMOS 
[oj/TiXfiTa*]  TT^o?  ef up/oxqv  xa*  KINHTIKON.  p.  1755, 

ed.  H.  S.  But  the  word  is  used  in  the  same 
sense  by  Aristotle  himself,  in  the  50th  of  the 
Harmonic  Problems,  p.  770,  where  xinjTix(&»  is 
applied  to  tlie  acuter  sound  of  a  concord,  on  ac- 
count of  the  velocity  of  its  vibrations,  and  op- 
posed to  n^tfioci^,  by  which  he  characterizes  the 
graver  sound. 

NOT^  218. 
P.  181.     The  other,  adapted  to  action 

AND    BUSINESS. 

Ilf  axrixov. — See  NOTE  45.  p.  3.  of  this  volume* 

NOTE   219. 

P.  182.  The  Poet,  in  his  own  person,  &c. 

The  reader  may  compare  Plato's  account  of 
Homer,  De  Rep.  lib.  iii.  p.  393,  ed,  Serr.  p.  178, 
ed.  Massey. 


^•1 


Z4 


344 


NOTES. 


NOTE    220. 

P.  182.     But    Epic    Poetry admits 

EVEN  THE  IMPROBABLE  AND  INCREDIBLE, 
FROM  WHICH  THE  HIGHEST  DEGREE  OF  THE 
SURPRISING  RESULTS,  BECAUSE,  THERE,  THE 
ACTION    IS    NOT    SEEN. 

lt.oi.Xkoy  y  ivhyirai  h  ry  iTroironoL  ro  aXoyov^  it*  0 
frvfA.^»mi  fAocXifx  ro  iocvfAOCfov,  int  ro  fj,n  og»v  £if  row 

'jT^arrovrm. — Such  is  the  reading  which  I  have  fol- 
lowed. The  sense,  which  I  have  given  it,  accords 
very  nearly,  if  not  exactly,  with  tlmt  given  by 
Victorius  and  Goulston,  and  adopted  by  Dacier 
and  M.  Batteux  *.  Victorius  supports  his  emen- 
dation— AAOrON,  instead  of  avoAoyov — by  reasons 
of  considerable  cogency :  viz.  the  difficulty,  or, 
rather,  the  impossibility,  of  making  any  satisfac- 
tory sense  of  to  d»ocXoyo¥,  as  the  rest  of  the  pas- 
sage   stands^;     the    explanatory  instance    itself, 

wliich 


•  —  ''  Mais  encore  plus  dans  T Epopee,  qui  va  en 
"  cela  jusq'  au  deraisonnable ;  car,  comme  dans  TEpopec 
''  on  ne  volt  pas  les  personnes  qui  agissenl,  tout  ce  qui 
'*  passe  les  bornes  de  la  raison  est  trcs  propre  a  y  pro- 

*^  duire  Tadmirable    &    le    merveilleux."    Dacier, 

'*  L' Epopee,  pour  etonner  encore  plus,  va  jusq*^  a  Tin- 
*'  croyable ;  parce  que  ce  qui  se  fait  chez  die  n'est  point 
♦'  juge  par  les  yeux.*' — Batteux. 

**  If  avotxcyov  be  right,  it  can  be  understood  no  other- 
Vfise,  I  believe,  than  adverbially — avakoyus — in  proportion  ; 

as 


NOTES.  34^ 

which  immediately  follows,  and  is,  plainly,  an  in- 
stance  of  the  ikoyoy,  and  even  expressly  called 
yiXoiov,  ridiculous/7/  improbable;  and  the  similar 
instance,  presently  after  given,  of  the  landing  of 
Ulysses  in  the  Odyssey,  which  he  expressly  calls, 

Td  iy  Oiva-a-Biot  A  AGFA,  &c. 

But,  though  I  think  the  sense  of  the  passage, 
thus  read,  and  thus  explained,  is,  in  itself,  unex- 
ceptionable, yet  I  can  by  no  means  rely  with 
perfect  confidence  upon  the  reading  from  which  it 
is  obtained.  All  the  manuscripts,  it  seems,  give, 
with  one  consent,   ANAAOrON.     This   circu.ij 

stance, 

as  it  has  been  understood  by  those  commentators  who 
have  adhered  to  that  reading.  But,  in  proportion  to 
what  P  Castelvetro  explains  it  thus :  '^  Ma,  se  si  conviene 
«  fare  la  maraviglia  nella  Tragedia,  molto  piu  si  con- 

*'  !!^"^.'  ^^  ^  ^^*'^^'''  ^  ^^^^^  "^^^*  ^Popea  secondo  proportlone. 
*'  Quasi  dtca-~%^  in  una  attione  ristreita  al  termino  d'un 
''  giorpo,  &  alio  spatio  d'un  palco,  [of  a  stage,-\  si  fa 
''  maraviglia,  che  sia  d*un  grado,  si  dovra  fare  in  attione 
**  che  sia,  pogniamo,  di  trentasette  giorni,  c  avenuta  in 
«  mare    &   in  terra,  quale   e   Tattione  compresa  neir 

"  Odissea,  sccondo  proportione,  di  trenta  e  sette  gradi : 

"  e,  TO  ovaxoyov,  e  detto  avcrbialmente,  come  se  fosse, 
"  ^''*^"^''  P-  549— i  l^now  not  how  the  reader  will 
relish  this  Rule  of  Three  explanation.^-But  what  is  to  be 
made  of  the  lio,  which  follows  ?— '^  Wherefore''  fi.  e.  be^ 
cause  the  Epic  is  more  capable  of  the  surprising  than 
Tragedy]  <rufx0cuyii  f^aXtra  ro  ^aufictrov -"  the  surprising 
'*  occurs,  or  is  to  be  found,  most  in  the  Epic  Poem 
*'  because  there  the  action  is  not  seen."— I  sec  no  other 
>/>  translation  of  the  passage,  accordin  to  the  old 
reading. 


I.,    4I 


i. 


lit- 


346  NOTES. 

stance,  in  a  passage  not  free,  in  other  respects, 
from  suspicion,  should  be  sufficient  to  prevent  our 
admitting  the  emendation  of  Victorius,  however 
probable,  without  some  reserve  —  ''  expeciamli 
codices^  I  should  perhaps,  therefore,  have  done 
better,  had  I  omitted  the  doubtful  part  of  tiie 

passage — the  words,   tq   i^xXoyo^^    ho   fxaX^fce,   e-VjA^ 

fiamt  TO  ixuiMxrov:  for  the  omission  will  leave  a 
clear  and  complete  sense;  and,  moreover,  a  sense, 
in  which  the  oniy  meaning  that  can  well  be  given 
to  the  words  omitted,  seems,  in  fact,  to  be  im- 
plied. Ail  fxsy  ik  ly  rom  rftxycohoci;  ironiy  to  t«9- 
f^oifO¥'  fMOcXXov  y  l^h^sTOCi  «v   T»j   i7ro7rou»y iiot  Ta 

fAn  of«i>  iU  rov  w^xrroyra,  "  The  surprising  is 
"  necessary    in   Tragedy:    but  the   Epic   Poem 

**  admits  of  it  to  a  greater  degree, because, 

"  tliere,  the  action  is  not  seau^ 


NOTE  221. 

P.  183,    Achilles  making  signs,  &c. 

The  passage  is  this : 

Aao/o-iy  J' ANENETE  KAPHATI  Ji®bA%iXXfU5-^ 
OvV  ilex,  Bfjtsvoct  Irrt  'Ejctoj/  ttik^cx.  fStXefiva, 

M13  Tig  xuJ©-  d^OiTO  (iotXcoVj  0  Ss  SevTSoO^  eXQot. 

IL  22.  205. 

NOTE    222. 

P.  183-4.  It  consists  in  a  sort  of  sophism,  &c. 

In  the  words,  SC  i  h  iv — to  ir^ov^tiyAi^  inclusively, 

the  text  seems  evidently  mangled  beyond  all  hope 

7  of 


NOTES.  347 

of  conjectural  restoration.     Tliis  ulcus  insanabik 
I  presume  not  to  touch,  either  as  commentator, 
or  as  translator.     I  can  make  nothing  consistent' 
of  it  myself :  I  have  seen  nothing  consistent  made 
of  it  by  others. 

The  words,  t»to  $i  Ifi  v|/£u^©j,  are  ambiguous^ 
Victorius  doubts,  whether  they  mean,  ''  this  pos- 
**  tenor/act  is  false,"  (the  roh  ymrxi,)  or,  ''  this 
*'  conclusion  is  false"— namely,  «  to  i^t^oy  1^,  xai 
TO  TT^oTff oj/  tlyxi.  What  follows,  had  it  been  tole- 
rably clear,  would,  probably,  have  fixed  the  sense 
of  iJ/£U(J(^.  As  this  is  not  the  case,  I  have  given 
it  that  sense  which  appears  to  me  most  obvious ; 
and  I  think  I  am  warranted  by  the  very  same 
expression  used  in  the  same  sense,  in  the  Rheto^ 
ric,  II.  23.  p.  579,  A.  where,  tn  $i  tkto  4/fuJ0», 
clearly  means,  this  is  a  false  conclusion. 

But  the  most  important  question  is,  in  what 
manner  Aristotle  meant  to  apply  this  logical  para- 
logism  to  Homers  management  of  fiction.  None 
of  the  commentators,  whom  I  have  seen,  appear 
to  me  to  have  given  any  satisfactory  explanation. 

The  paralogism  Tra^'  lirofxtyoy,  a  consequently  here 
alluded  to,  tiie  reader  will  find  clearly  explained 
in  several  parts  of  the  philosopher's  other  works  *. 
It  consists  in  taking  a  proposition  as  convertible, 
that  is  not  so.  Because  rain  wets  the  ground,  mc 
conclude,   when  we  see  the  ground  wet,   that  it 

must 

*   Tom.  1.  p.  286,  A.  and  B.  Sect.  6, 7,  S.—R/iet.  II.  24. 
p.  580,  E,  ed.  Duval, 


41 


V 


34^  NOTES. 

must  have  rained.     Because  every  man  in  a  fever 

is  hot,  we  conclude,  that  a  person  who  is  hot  must 

be   in  a   fever :   aVayxTi    KAI    rov    h^^ov    trii^trruv  ^. 

These  are  some  of  Aristotle's  own  explanatory 
instances.— Now,  he  tells  us  here,  that  Homer's 
art  of  It/ing — ^t\)$n  Xtym  w?  $n — consists  in  im- 
posing his  marvellous  fictions  upon  the  reader'f 
imagination  by  a  sort  of  poetic  sophism,  similar 
to  this  logical  sophism.  And  this  is  all  he  says. 
He  has  left  us  to  make  out  the  similitude  as  well 
as  we  can.  No  writer,  I  believe,  ever  paid  more 
frequent  compliments  of  this  kind  to  the  sagacity 
of  his  readers. 

Dacier,  with  other  commentators,  seems  to 
understand  nothing  more,  than  that  artful  inter- 
mixture of  historical,  or  acknowledged,  truth, 
which,  by  throwing  the  mind,  as  it  were,  into  a 
posture  of  belief  and  conviction,  has  its  effect 
even  upon  what  we  know  to  be  feigned,  and  makes 
the  false  pass  glibly  with  the  true.  But  I  cannot 
think,  that  this  comes  up  to  Aristotle's  meaning, 
nor  that  his  observation,  here,  amounts  only  to 
that  of  Strabo  :—Ik  fxn^iyi^  a'A„0«?  «\«7rTi«v  xa*vi,p 

Ti^aToXoy*av,    s^   OfAfi^ixov,    x.T.aX^      For    no    onc 

has  atten)pted  to  shew,  and  I  believe  no  one  can 
shew,  how  that,  which  Aristotle  says  of  the  par- 
ticular paralogism  denominated  t*^'   iwt^tyov,   is 

applicable 


Tom,  I.  uhi  supra, 
*  Lib.  I.— And  see  Dacler's  note,  p.  427, 


NOTES.  3^, 

applicable  to  the  intermixture-the  mere  juxta- 
position, of  fact  and  fiction. 

The  similitude  of  the  logical  and  poetic  sophism 
appears  to  me  to  be  this.     It  is  not  merely,  that 
where  there  is  a  mixture  of  history  and  fiction' 
the  truth  makes  the  fiction  pass;  but  the  compa-  . 
rison,  I  think,  relates  to  the  connection  between 
th^ Jictiom  of  the  Poet,  considered  as  cause  and 
effect,  as  antecedent  and  consequent.     The  Poet 
invents  certain  extraordinary  characters,  incidents 
and  situations.     When  the  actions,  and  the  Ian-' 
guage,   of  those  characters,  and,  in  general    the 
consequences  of  those   events,  or  situations,  as 
drawn  out  into  detail  by  the  Poet,  are  such  as  we 
know,  or  think,  to  be  /r«e-that  is  to  say,  poeti- 
cally true,  or  natural;  such,  as  %ve  are  satisfied 
•must  necessarily,  or  would  probably,  follow,  if 
such  characters  and  situations  actually  existed  • 
this  probability,  nature,  or  truth,  of  representa-' 
tion,  imposes  on  us,  sufficiently  for  the  purposes 
of  Poetry.     It  induces  us  to  believe,  with  hypo- 
thetic and  voluntary  faith,  the  existence  of  those 
false  events,   and    imaginary  personages,    those 
mi„»ra,  ixoyx,  ^,^„— those  marvellous  and  in- 
credible fictions,  which,  otherwise  manacled    we 
should  have  rejected  :  tliat  b.  their  improbability 
or  nnposs.bility,  would  have  so  forced  themselve^ 
upon  our  notice,  as  to  destroy,  or  disturb,  even 
the  slight  and  willing  illusion  of  the  moment. 

Whenever, 


m 


350  NOTES. 

Whenever,  says  the  pIiiloso[>her,  supposirig  such 
a  thing  to  he,  it  would  certainly  be  tblloued  by 
such  effects;  if  we  see  those  effects^  we  are  dis* 
posed  to  infer  the  existence  of  that  cause.  And 
thus,  in  Poetiy,  and  all  fiction,  this  is  tlie  logic  of 
that  temporary  imposition  on  which  depends  our 
pleasure.  The  reader  of  a  play,  or  a  novel, 
does  not,  indeed,  syllogize,  and  s(iy  to  himself — ' 
"  Suc4i  beings  as  are  here  supposed,  had  they 
"  existed,  must  have  acted  and  spoken  exactly 
."  in  this  manner;  therefore,  I  believe  they  haxe 
"  existed  :" — but  he  feels  the  truth  of  the  pre- 
mises, and  he  cojisciits  to  feel  the  trudi  of  the 
conclusion;  he  does  not  revolt  from  the  imagina- 
tion of  such  beings.  Every  thing  follows  so 
natumlly,  and,  even,  as  it  seems,  so  necessarily, 
tliat  the  probability  and  truth  of  nature,  in  the 
consequences,  steals,  in  a  nianner,  from  our  view, 
even  the  impossibility  of  tlie  cause,  and  flings  an 
air  of  truth  over  the  whole.  With  respect  to 
Jacty  indeed,  all  is  equally  vj/iu^©- ;  for  if  the 
causes  exist  not,  neitlier  can  the  ejects.  But  the 
consequent  lies  are  so  told,  as  to  impose  on  us, 
for  the  moment,  the  belief  of  the  antecedent,  or 
fundamental  lie  ^ 

For  instances  of  this  art,  no  reader  can  be  at  a 

loss.     He  will  find  them,  not  only  in  almost  all 

' the 

■"  Hobbes,  with  his  usual  acuteness,  observes,  that 
"  probable  fiction  is  similar  to  reasoning  rightly  from  a 
"  false  principle."  />.  1 3,  of  his  works,  Sect.  9, 


NOTES.  351 

tlie  "speciosa  miracula"  of  Homer,  but  even  in 
the  wilder  and  more  absurd  miracles  of  Ariosto ; 
whose  poem  is,  indeed,  a  striking  example  of  tlie 
most  improbable,  and,  in  themselves,  revolting 
lies',  to  which,  however,  every  poetical  reader 
willingly  throws  open  his  imagination;  princi- 
pally, I  believe,  from  the  easy  charm  of  his  lan- 
guage and  versification,  and  Uie  remarkable 
distinctness  of  his  painting ;  but,  partly  too,  from 
the  truth  and  tiature  which  he  has  contrived  to 
fling  into  t\ie  detail  of  his  description.  But  were 
I  to  chuse,  from  the  productions  of  poetic  genius 
at  large,  an  example,  which  would,  singly,  illus- 
trate this  passage  of  Aristotle,  more  than  any 
other  that  I  recollect,  It  should  be  the  Caliban  of 
Shakspeare. 

I  shall  only  add,  without  troubling  the  reader 
with  any  comment  of  mine,  one  passage  of  the 
Rhetoric,  which  may  serve,  both  to  illustrate  the 
paralogism  itself,  here  alluded  to,  and  to  confirm 
the  application  which  I  have  given  it.  In  that 
passage,  Aristotle  applies  the  paralogism  Truf 
IrrofAivo,,  to  the  effect  of  oratorical  elocution,  in 
producing  persuasion  and  conviction  in  the  hearers. 

nj9a»o»    St   TO    n^aynx,   xa.    ^   olxHX   AeJ.c ' 

nAPAAOnZETAI   y«f  „•  ^,^r,,  coV  k-A-iS^f   Aiyo^T©., 


QTi, 


•  It  may.  be  said  of  this  Poet,  in  the  language  of  Shak- 
speare's  Coiiolanus,  that  he  has — 

Murder'd  impossibility,  to  make 

What  cannot  be,  slight  work.- —     Aa  v.  Sc,  3. 


352 


NOTES. 


f*ii  ¥T«f  f;^it,  «f  0  AfyuK,  ra  ir^ayfjLXTx,  «twc  sp^rti* '. — • 
"  What  the  Orator  says,  is,  likewise,  rendered 
"  probable  and  credible  by  a  suitable  diction  and 
**  elocution.  For  we  are  cheated  into  the  per- 
**  suasion,  that  the  orator  speaks  truly,  merely 
"  because  we  know  that  men,  so  circumstanced 
"  as  he  assumes  to  be,  are  actually  affected  in 
"  that  manner :  so  that  we  take  it  for  granted, 
**  that  things  are  really  as  the  speaker  represents 
'^  them  to  be,  when,  in  fact,  they  are  not  so." 

The  art  here  pointed  out  by  Aristotle,  as  emi- 
nent in  Homer's  poetry,  evidently  extends  to 
fiction  in  general ;  but,  by  \{/£u^ti,  I  understand 
him  to  allude,  chkflx/y  to  fictions  of  the  extraor- 
dinary, marvellous,  and  improbable  kind — such 
as  require  the  utmost  art  and  management  of  the 
Poet  to  make  them  pass.  The  connection  of  the 
whole  passage,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  shews  this 
to  "be  the  author's  meaning;  the  application  of 
^ixih  being  fixed,  both  by  the  terms  9auparo>,  and 
ccXoyov,  in  what  precedes,  and  by  the  a^vmrx  xa» 
iiKora,  which  follow,  and  which  I  take  to  be,  or,  at 
least,  to  include,  those  very  iJ/iuJu  XiyofA.iva,  tlq 
in,  of  which  he  had,  immediately  before,  been 
speaking. 

^  R/iet.  III.  7.  p.  590. — Sec  also,  ib,  cap.xvl,  p. 603,  E. 
sTt,  vc  Tcwv  TTo&r^Tixuv,  &c.  a  passagc,  which  Victorius  citet 
as  illustrating  the  words — ^la  ya^  to  il^tvat,  &c. 


m^ 


NOTES. 


35J 


NOTE    223. 

P.     186.       If,      HOWEVEil,      ANY      THING      OF 
THIS    KIND,    &C. 

I  much  doubt  of  the  integrity  of  the  text.     The 
sense  I  have  given  seems  to  be  the  only  one, 
which  the  passage,  as  it  now  stands,  will  reason- 
ably bear.     Dacier,  after  Victorius,  understands 
.     ■—"  if  the  admission  of  me  improbable  circum- 
''  stance  be  the  means  of  giving  more  probability 
'•  to  the  rest."     I  do  not  well  comprehend  this : 
I  am  sure  it  is  not  what  Aristotle  has  said.     His 
-words  are,  «V  Ji  9v,  k«,  ^«„„^.  tJAoy^rtf «— i.  e.  "  if 
*•  he  has  introduced  such  a  circumstance,  or  in- 
"  cident,  and  it  (not  the  rest,  the  rvhole)  has  some 
"  appearance  of  probability,"  &c. 

I  suppose  Aristotle  meant  to  say,  that,  though 
improbabilities  are  certainly  faults,  and  ought  to 
be  carefully  avoided  in  the  first  choice  and  struc-. 
ture  of  a  fable,  yet,  they  might  be  so  ^vell  ma-* 
naged  by  a  Poet  of  genius,  (especially  in  the  Epic, 
which  is  here  the  subject,)  as  to  appear  rathJ- 
probable— tixcyo,Tt^oy;~tQ  pass  witli  some   shew 
of   probability;    and,    in    this   case,  should   be 
admitted,  or  tolerated,  even  though  pushed  to  the 
«TOToi.,  or  absurd     This  sense  accords  perfectly 
with  what  immediately  follows,  which  is  precisely 
an  instance  of  such  management ;   of  absurdity, 
or,  at  least,  improbability,  (t«  U  0^«<ra-««  dxoyx—) 
veiled  by  the  charms  of  poetry,  and  finding  almost 


41 
*\ 

II 


VOL.  II. 


A  A 


as 


354  NOTES. 

as  ready  an  admission  into  the  imagination  of  the 
reader,  under  the  passport  of  the  beauties  by 
which  it  is  accompanied,  as  if  it  were,  in  itself, 
ever  so  consonant  to  nature  and  experience.  With 
respect  to  the  words — Iv^fp^fcrSxj  xa»  drowo¥ — it 
seems  necessary  to  adopt  one  or  the  other  of  the 
two  manuscript  readings —  tx^t^itriony  or  ocTrofe- 
p^i(r6a«.  The  former  of  these  verbs  Mr.  Winstan- 
ley  takes  in  the  sense  of  dru^yetvy  xwAuffy,  upon 
the  authority  of  Suiclas.  But  in  the  very  passage 
adduced  by  that  lexicographer,  the  immediate 
sense  of  Ixh^t^rixi  is,  to  receive.     Fi^^x  n  7r«fa- 

riTctyiAivoc  ijv,  tU  ro  EKAEXE20A1   t«   tuv  (^x^^x^ccv 

rQ^ti[Axra.  1.  e.  to  receive  them ;  and  6y  receiving 
them  to  keep  them  off  from  their  bodies.  ArcerCy 
here,  is  only  what  we  may  call  the  consequential 
meaning  of  the  word.  I  do  not  see,  that  it  may 
tiot,  in  this  place,  very  well  bear  the  sense  of 
receivings  admit  ting,  or,  rather,  tolerating:  but 
of  this  I  would  not  be  understood  to  speak  posi- 
tively. This  seems,  at  least,  to  be  the  sense, 
which  the  purport  of  the  passage  requires ;  and 
it  refers,  I  think,  not  to  the  Poet  himself^  as  some 
understand  it,  but  to  the  audience,  or  tlie  reader. 
When  Aristotle  has  just  said,  av  h  9p— i.  e.  **  but 
"  if  he  has  introduced,  or  admitted  it,''  how  can 
he  be  understood  to  add,  "  he  should  admit  it?'* 
Fartlier,  the  word  dviyLrxy  (tolerabiiia,)  which,  in 
the  instance  immediately  subjoined,  clearly  relates 
to  the  hearer,  or  reader,  seems  sufficiently  to  fix 
5  the 


NOTES.  3^^ 

the  same  reference  of  the  correspondent  word 

£x<r£;^g(r8a»,  or  X7ro^Bp^s<rixi,  here.  ' 

Mr,  Harris,    in  his  PhiloL  Inquiries,  p.  220 

though  he  has  not  quoted,  or  translated,  this  par' 

ticular  passage,  appears,   pretty  clearly,  to  allude 

to  It,  and  to  have  understood  the  verb  as  here<?x- 

plained.     Hfe  says,  speaking  of  mprobabilities  in 

the  drama-<'  'Tis  true,  indeed,   did  such  plays 

^^  ea^ist,    [dy  $,  e^,-]  <'  and  were  their  other  dra- 

"  "^atic    requisites  good,    these    improbabilities 

^1  might  be  endured,  and  the  plays  be  still  ad- 

mired." 

The  version  of  Piccolomini  agrees  with  mine  — 
1^'  Ma  se,  ponendovisi  poi  qualche  cosa,  che  in  se 
♦^'  habbia  del  non  ragionevole,  si  adornerd,  e  si 
"^^  tratterd,inmamera,  ch'ella  apparir  possa  ragio- 
"  nevole,  potr^,  in  tal  caso,  trovarvi  l.iogo."  p.  392. 


if 


NOTE    224. 

•P.  186.     The    absurdity   is    concealed 

UNDER    THE    VARIOUS    BEAUTIES,    &c. 

In  tlie  language  of  Pindar,  i- 

VTTS^  Tov  d\y}6rj  Xoyov, 
SeSociSocXf^evoi  j^evSetri  TfOiKiXoig* 

— XAPIS 

•  •*  L'homme  est  de  glace  aux  verites, 
"  11  est  de  feu  pour  \cs  mensonges  " 

La  Fontaine,  Fab,  174. 
A  A  2 


|4 

Li 


k 

1 


I* 


S5&  .    N    O.  T    E    S. 

XAPIZ    S\  i'TTS^  UTTOCVTOC  T6V^ 

ILM  AniITON  'EMHSATO  ni£TON 
EMMENAI .  OlympA. 

The  reader,  I  believe,  will  be  pleased  with  the 
comparison  of  a  poetical  passage  so  remarkably 
apposite  to  this  observation  of  the  philosopher) 
and,  indeed,  to  all  this  part  of  his  treatise,  relative 
to  the  management  of  fiction. 

On  account  of  the  same  general  relation  to  the 
subject,  I  may  be  excused  for  adding  these  agree- 
able lines  oi  Plautus: — 

Sed  quasi  Poeta,  tabulas  cum  cepit  sibi, 
Quaerit  quod  nusquam  est  gentium,  reperit  tamen, 
Facit  illud  verisiinile  quod  niendacium  est, — 
Nunc  ego  Poeta  fiam.  Pseud»  Act  I.  Sc.  4. 


NOTE  225. 
P.  186.    The  idle  parts  of  the  Poem — . 

'APFA  fjLi^n,     The  expression  is  best  explained, 
according  to    my  idea  of  it,   by  Castelvetro. — 

"  Dobbiamo intendere    per    parti    otiose^ 

quelle,  nelle  quali  il  poeta  parla  di  sua  personCy 
e  con  javella  sua  ci  fa  vedere  quello  che  si  fa : 
le  quali  percio  si  domandano,  /a£^>j  «^y«,  che 
non  sono  in  atto,  ed  operanti,  come  sono 
quelle,  le  quali  sono  rappresentate  in  palco,  e 
quelle,  nelle  quali  per  gli  poeti  epopei  sono 

*'  introdotte 


ti 


t< 


tc 


it 


i€ 


NOTES.  35, 

introdotte  le  persone  ctfavellare ;  le  quali  parti, 
"  perche  paiono  pressoche  montare  in  palco,  ed 

operare,  si  contrapongono  alle  parti  otiose,  e 

contengono,   principalmente,    le  sententie^  ed, 
**  accessoriamente,  i  costumi*'  p,  578. 

Dacier's  ''  parties  foibles,''  in  which  he  is  fol-^ 
lowed  by  M.  Batteux,  presents  a  different,  and, 
I  think,  a  wrong  idea.  ^ 


it 


i< 


a 


NOTE    226. 

P.  186-7.     In  which    neither   manners 

NOR  sentiments    PREVAIL. 

It  has  been  inquired,  why  Aristotle  here  passes 
over  m  silence  the  passionate  parts  of  the  Poem ; 
to  which  a  laboured  and  splendid  diction  seems  as 
ill  suited,  as  it  is  to  the  expression  of  manners  and 
sentiments.     This  inquiry  has  produced  another ; 
whether  he  did,  or  did  not,  mean  to  include  the 
passionate  parts  in  itavoriTntoig.     Madius  contends 
that  he  did  :   Victorius,  that  he  did  not.    1  believe 
the  latter  is  right.     For  if  we  take  i^xyoix,  here, 
in  that  wide  sense  which  is  given  it  in  cap.  xix  *.  it 
will  include  "  xvhatever  is  the  object  of  speech  f — 
"  every  thing,"  as  Mr.  Hanis  has  explained  it, 
*'  for  which  men  employ  language  ^"    If,  there- 
fore, the  ^fpu  <^*airo»jTtxa,  here,  comprehend  those 
thoughts  which   express  passion,  they  will  also 
comprehend  such  as  express  manners,  or  character; 

from 

•  Transl  />.  159.  vol.  i.       ^  PhiloL  Inq.  p.  I73,&c, 

A  A  3 


'I: 


u 


I 


35*  NOTES. 

from  which  Aristotle  expressly  distinguishes  them: 

But,  whether  he  did,  or  did  not,  mean  to  include 
the  passionate  parts  of  the  Poem,  it  seems  true, 
and  he  would  probably  have  allowed  it,  that  such 
a  diction  as  he  here  describes  is  improper  for  the 
expression  oipassmi :  nor  is  this  at  all  inconsistent, 
as,  on  a  superficial  view,  it  may  seem  to  be,  with 
the  following  passage    in   his   Rhetoric— Ta   ^i 

ipofAOcrot,   Tx  sViflsTa,    xat    ^urAa    vXnu,    xott  ra   ^ivoc, 
fAocXifoc    d^fxoTTEi    AfyokTi    nAeHTIKX22-    cruyyvw^*, 

itTTSiy  \  &c.     The  strons  and  figurative  lansua^e. 
and,  what  may  be  called,  the  natural  Poetry  of 
passion— a  sort  of  Poetry  which  we  every  day  hear 
from  the  mouths  of  those,  who  never  made,  and 
scarce,  perhaps,  ever  read,  a  verse  —this  is  a  very 
different   thing  from*  the   AIAnONEIN   Asff*,  the 
MAN  AAMnPA  Xf^if,  of  which  the  philosopher 
here  speaks.— But,   for   an  exact,  though  short, 
discussion  of  this  subject,  with  its  proper  distinc- 
tions and  limitations,  I  must  refer  the  reader  to 
an  excellent  note  on  v.  94,  of  Horace's  Epistte  to 
the  ^isos  ^     It  will  be  found,  I  think,  perfectly 
consistent  with  both  the  passages  of  Aristotle  here 
considered,  and  will  afford  the  best  support  to  the 
above  remarks.— See  note  2oq. 


.  *=  J^Aet.llL  7.  ^  59o,E. 

^  Dr.   Kurd's    Ho.  ace,    vol.  i.      See,    pardcularly, 
p.  79»  80. 


NOTES. 


35? 


NOTE    227. 

•    P.   187.     Obscured    by  too  splendid  a 

DICTION. 

rfin  %on  raq  ^locvoixg, — In  the  same  sense,  in  w^hich 
syxf  uirTgrat  is  used,  in  a  similar  passage  ofLonginus, 
Sect.  15. — where,  speaking  of  the  effect  of  lively 
imagery,  in  stealing  one's  attention  from  argument ^ 

he  says,  ^ua-£*  $t.  9r«f,  \y  rojf  T0«8T0if  «?7ra(n>,  oiii  rs 
x^nrrov^  «x»o^£i/*  iiiv,  aVo  th  JtVoJ'njcTixa  Trt^i- 
iXnofxiiix  iU  TO  xxToc  0Mra<nocv  UirXnxriicov,  w  to 
v^ocyixoLTiycov  ErKPTnTETAI  nEPlAAMnOMLNON. 

— So  also,   Sect,  1  7.  — AIIEKPTi'E  to  (r;j^»i/xa 

Tw  $nTI  ATTIli. — And  again — $10,  AAMIIPOTHTA 

rnv  rtxynv   AIIOSKIAZEI,  xa*  oiov    Iv    KATA- 

KAATIKEI  T„^f». 

The  following  passage  of  the  Rhetoric^  con- 
cerning the  mixture  of  the  argumentative  with  the 
pathetiCy  will  also  help  to  illustrate  that  before 

us. — Ka*   QTOLy  TToA^  'Jrotvig,  fxn  Xiyi  Ivivfxnixx  *   i  yap 

ixxf«H<ri  yx^  cci  xivna-ug  aAAijAa?,  di  ocfMA'  xat  r 
AOANIZOT2IN,  if  affimif  noiinny,  Rkct.  IIJ.  17. 
p.  604,  E. 

In  the  same  manner  the  expression  of  Aristotle 
is  well  explained  by  Piccohmini,  in  his  commen- 
tary, /).  394. 


A  A  4 


360 


N    O 


T    E    S. 


It  ~ 
I 


NOTE    228. 

P.  189.     In  words,    either   common,  or 

FOREIGN,  &C. 

^  At^u  n  x«i  yX«TTa*f— .  Ileins.  KTPIAi  A«fii, 
f»  xa»  yAwTTaif.  The  insertion  seems  necessary, 
but  would,  perhaps,  be  better  thus:  Aifi*,  H 
KTPIAi,  if  Kxi  yXuTTotig,  &c,  Victorius  and  otlier 
commentators  suppose  x«fi«  to  be  understood. 
But  this  I  cannot  conceive.  Atf  k  appears  clearly 
to  be  used  here,  as  in  cap.  xxii.  for  diction  in  ge- 
neral, including,  as  in  tliat  chapter,  every  sort 
of  words. 

NOTE    229. 

P.  189.     Which  are   the    privilege   of 
Poets. 

AIAOMEN  ya(  ravra  tok  Troitircn^.    The  same 

expression  is  made  use  of  by  Isocrates,  in  the 
following  passage,  to  which  I  refeired  in  note  5. 
vol.  i.  p.  239,  and  in  which  the  privileges  and  ad- 
vantages  of  the  Poet  are  well  set  forth,  and  the 
importance  of  verse  to  the  effect  of  even  the  best 
poetry,  is  strongly  insisted  on. 

Tmg  fiiv  yuq  Troifjraig  ttoXXoi  AEAONTAI 
Tcocix^oi.  Kat  yoc^  TrXr^tria^ovTotg  Toiq  avO^uTroig 
r\iq  Sii^g  iiovT  ocvroig  l^i  TTOiriTcci,  koci  hocXiyo- 
[iBVfgg,  KXi  (njvccymi^ofiivug,  hig  dv  iSaXridcoa-i '  tcou 
'TTB^i  TUTm  SriXeoa-ui,  [x,7j    fiovov  roig  TBTuy/jievotg  * 

*  mayf4,emi,  iiere,  is  e(juivalent  to  Aristotle's  jw/^mmj  ;  as, 
MMvoii,  to  his  'jTiirctrifimi^,  and  imi^,  to  his  y>mraii. 


N    6    T    E    S.  36, 

i»efta<r,v,  dxXu,  rcc  f^u,  ^emg,  rx  Se,  xcavoic,  rx 
is,  fiSTitipo^ocr  Kcct  i^n^ev  irct^uXtvM,  dxXoc  Traa-t 
TOig  elSstri  lottrornXou  rriv  -TToiria-iv.  Toi{  Se  Treat 
TKff  Xoyifff  QSev  IPe^,  ru>v  ro^nrm-  uXX'  dtrorofiug, 
xat  rm    'ovoftccTmv  toi;  mXiTiKotg  \   xa«  tuv  hOv'- 

*5-'  X^<r&oci.     U^o?  h  TiSToi?,  0,  fjuv  fjierx  f^er^coy 

*CU     '^uSl^uv    aTTMTK     TTOtwr    0(    Se    ^Sev^    THTm 

xo^vuvwiV  d  To,r«vrr,v  'ex^>  ^yv,  «V.  «V  x«, 
ry  Xe^e,,xcci  rotg  'ev9vfiriu«<rtv,  l^f  Kcaut(,  ofjuti 
rati  ye  ev^v$i*ixis   kou  rcuq  ovfifjieT^ix,;  ^vxayu- 

yaa-l    TK?    MOSOfTOCS.       KctTOCfiddoi  S'    dv  Tts  Uidev 

T^v  Swocf^tv  ocCtuV  ,V  ycc^  rtg  tuv  mtrjftxTm  rm 
eCSoKifiwrm  rot.  fiev  Svofiocrcc  xct,  rxg  S,»m»g 
KXTocXfjTT,  TO  Se  METPON  SiotXvcrv,  <f>ccv7i(reru, 
•TToXu  xctrxSee^e^cc  T,f  So^,,s,  ,V  my' 'exo[*tv  m^, 
«vru,v  \  See  note  5.  vol.  i.  p.  240,  the  passage 
from  Plato. 


NOTE    230. 

P.    189.     What  is  right  in  the  poetic 

ART,  IS  A  distinct  CONSIDERATION  FROM 
WHAT  IS  RIGHT  IN  THE  POLITICAL,  Oli  ANT 
OTHER   ART. 

This  is  one  of  those  passages,  which  the  com- 
mentators appear  to  me  to  have  darkened  by 
illustration.  See,  particularly,  Dacier's  note.  His 
account  of  the  difference  between  Poetry  and  aU 
other 

^^^i—^— — ^^^— ^— ^-^  -    -       I   H   Ml     1 

»  See  note  57.  p.  36.  «  Euag.  cirt.  init. 


{■ 


$60 


NOTES. 


NOTE    228. 

P.  189.     In  words,    either    common,  or 

Ji'OREIGX,  &C. 

Ae^n  »}  xfti  yXuTTociq — .  Ileitis,  KTPIAt  Aijfi, 
»!  xat  yAwTTflsif.  The  insertion  seems  necessary, 
but  would,  perhaps,  be  better  thus :  Aifit,  H 
KTPIAt,  >;  xa*  yXurraiff  &c,  Victorius  and  otlier 
commentators  suppose  xw^i«  to  be  understood. 
But  this  I  cannot  conceive.  Aigic  appears  clearly 
to  be  used  here,  as  in  cap.  xxii.  for  diction  in  ge- 
neral, including,  as  in  that  chapter,  every  sort 
of  words. 

NOTE    229. 

P.  189.  Which  are  the  privilege  of 
Poets. 

AIAOMEN  yct^  ravroi  roif  TroinTaif.  The  same 
expression  is  made  use  of  by  IsocrateSy  in  the 
following  passage,  to  which  I  refeixed  in  note  5. 
vol.  i.  p.  239,  and  in  which  the  privileges  and  ad- 
vantages of  tlie  Poet  are  well  set  forth,  and  the 
importance  of  verse  to  the  effect  of  even  the  best 
poetry,  is  strongly  insisted  on. 

Tmq  fiiv  yoc^  TroirjTOtig  ttoXXoi  AEAONTAI 
xotrfjLOi.  Kui  yuo  TrXr^Cioc^ovTug  Toig  dvQouTTotg 
rag  Ssag  oiovt  ocvroig  If*  ttoititoci,  ycoct  ciaXeyo^ 
fjLSvvg,  Koct  aruvocycovi^o^Bvag,  otg  ocv  jSaXridua-i'  kou 
*7r6oi  TUTuv   d7}Xci}(rociy  jjctj    i^ovov  TOig  TiTocyfjtsvotg  * 

*  riTixyfAtvoii,  here,  is  etpjivalent  to  Aristotle's  wfioij;  as, 
Mjuvoii,  to  iiis  'jTETrcinfJLivoii,  and  ievoi^j  to  his  yXuvrcui, 


N    6    T    E    S.  361 

ovof4Ct(nv,  aAXa,   ra  ^e:/,  ^emg,  ra.  Je,  \L(x.mig,   rot 
Se,  fABru(po^ocig'   koci  i^^i/jSev  Troc^ocXiTTBiv,  uXXoc  Traa-i 
TOig  eldetTi  SiotTTotKiXoct   rtjif  ttoivjo-iv.      Totg  Jg  tteoi 
rag  Xoyag  iliv  l^e^t   roov  toihtuv'  aXX'  ccTroTOfiug, 
icon  'Ttav  ovo[ioiTm  roig  TToXirtKoig  **,    koci  tuv  JvSy- 
firif/.a,TU)v  T$ig  tte^i  uvrocg  rag  Tr^oc^etg^  oivocyycociov 
ig-i  x^yia-Qoci.      U^og  Se  rarotg,  01  fjLev  fjitroe,  fiEToeav 
Koti    '^v9[/,cav   ccTrotVTOi    irotaa-r   it  Ss  iSev®.  tutojv 
xotvupna-iv    i  ro<ToL\}Tf[V    l^ti  %af/i/,   dJf ,   iv    koci 
Tin  Xe^e;,   Koct  roig  h6uf4.r}uoi(riv,  exn  TcuKug,  ificag 
rocig  yi  iv^vQfjtixig   xa<  rxtg   a-vfJLfJL^r^iotig  i^vxocyu^ 
yacri  rag  oacnofTocg.      KocrocfjixOoi  S*  dv  rig  eKadBv 
ryjv  cvvocfiiv  avTuV   ifi/  ya^  rig  tuv  TTotfjf^cotTuv  tup 

6V^0X.tf/,liVTUV     TO,     fZBV     OVO^OCTOC    xa/     70Cg     SiocPoiccg 

KocTocXiTrri,  to  Se  METPON  ^iocXv(rri,  (pavfja-eroct 
TToXv  KocTocSeege^oc  tt^  So^fjg,  ^g  vvv  exo[^ev  Treot 
axiTm  \  See  note  5.  vol.  i.  p.  240,  the  passage 
from  Plato. 


%■» 


1.1 


NOTE    230. 

P.    189.     What  is  right  in  the  poetic 

ART,  IS  A  DISTINCT  CONSIDERATION  FROM 
WHAT  IS  RIGHT  IN  THE  POLITICAL,  OR  ANY 
OTHER    ART. 

This  is  one  of  those  passages,  which  the  com- 
mentators appear  to  me  to  have  darkened  by 
illustration.  See,  particularly,  Dader\  note.  His 
account  of  the  difference  between  Poetry  and  all 

Qthe%^ 

_  \ 

^  Sec  note  57.  p.  36.  «  Euag.  cin.  init. 


362 


NOTES. 
other  arts,  seems  evidently  false.    What  Aristotle 
says  of  Poetry— that  it  has  two  kinds  of  faults, 
essential,  and  incidental— is,  at  least,  true  of  all 
other  imitative  arts.     It  is  even  true,  as  Beni  has 
shewn,  of  Rhetoric  and  Logic  *.     Aristotle  only 
says,  (to  give  the  passage  literally  J  "  the  rijrhtncss 
"  of  the  poetic,  and  the  rightness  of  the  political 
"  art,  are  not  the  same ;  nor  of  any  other  art  and 
"  the  poetic  art."     The  plain  meaning  of  which 
appears  to  me  to  be  that  which  I  have  given  - 
that  tlie  o^GoTtif,  or  rectitude,  of  Poetry  itself,  is 
not  to  be  confounded  with  that  of  Politics,  nor  of 
any  other  art  tliat  may  be  the  incidental  subject  of 
the  Poetry,   which,  in  itself,  may  be  good,  and 
even  excellent,  though  it  may  deliver  things  false 
or  inaccurate  in  Politics,  Natural  History,  Navi- 
gation, Geography,  &c.   This  sense  of  the  passage 
seems  clear  of  all  the  difficulties  with  which  the 
common  explanation  is  embarrassed,  and  leads 
naturally  to  the  following  division  of  the  faults  of 
Poetry,  iiito  essential  and  incidental. — Castelvetro 
is  the  only  one,  of  the  commentators  I  have  con- 
sulted, who  appears  to  agree  with  me,  if  I  under- 
stand 


»  *«  Nam  Rhetorica  &  Dialectica  suos  egredi  fines 
«  Solent,  &  in  alicnos  campos  exciirrcre,  perinde  fere  ac 
«  nos  de  Poetica  docemus.  I'cmere  igitur  Aristoteles, 
<*  quod  inter  Poeticam  &  Politlcam  notavit  discrimen, 
«  idem  inter  Poeticam,  rursus,  ac  caeteras  artes,  notasset : 
•«  nam  Rheiorica  &  Dialectica  ejusdem  videri  possunt 
«  rectitudinis  cum  Poetica/'  Bmi  Comm.  in  Jrist. 
Poet.  /».  460. 


NOTES.  ^63 

stand    iiim   rightly,   in   this   explanation  of  the 
passage  ^ 

The  allusion,  here,  to  the  severe  objections  of 

Plato,  who  would  allow  of  Poetry  no  farther 

than  as  it  could  be  made  to   coincide  with   the 

views  of  his  own  strict  and  moral  legislation,   has 

been  sufficiently  pointed  out.     The  reader  may 

see,  particularly,  a  fine  passage  to  this  purpose  in 

the  seventh  book  of  his  Laws,  [p.  817,  ed,  &rr,] 

where,  addressing  the  Tragic  Poets,  lie  refuses  to 

admit  them  into  his  republic,  till  the  magistrates 

have  satisfied  themselves,  by  inspection  of  their 

poems,  that  they  contain  nothing  but  what  is  in 

perfect  unison  with  the  laws  and  uioral  discipline 

of  the  state.-M,  J,  ^og.r.  r>a,  p^cT.coc  yi  ^Vc,  u^^^ 

ffOTi  7r«fl'  iu^y  Ua-iiu,  (rx>jm?  n  Trn^ocvrag  kxt 
dyo^xy,  xct,  icjcA\i^uu<ig  CTrox^^rocg  HfTxyoi^iyni,  fxsi^oy 
^^^yyof^,U3<:  n>c..,  iTr^r^i^s.,  C^.,  Sr^f^r.yopH,  Tr^og  ttoc^oc^ 

roL<;  iTTiTn^.i^ocTcu  Tn^i  ^„  roc  ocurx  XTre^  ^^,,^^  «'xa', 
cJff  TO    TToXv,    xoci    lyxvTix    rx    irXH^X.       'i.yj^^y   y^^  „, 

X>   fAXl,0,fMi^X   T£AE«f   „>£;f   T£    KXi    ^TTXTX  ^    TTOXif,    lirif 

Hy  Cfxiy  in,r^,^oi  S^xy  rx  yvy  Xiyofj^iyx,  Tr^iy  x^iv«i  rx^ 
aeX^f-  «^'^«  P*JT«  x^i  UiTfihix  fniroi^ytxTZ  Xiyuy  ,1;  ro 
fMBiroy,  ilr,  ^„.  Nu.  hV,  c^  ^^,^,^  f^xXxKu^y  ^«,r«v 
Uyoyo^,  h^Si^^xyr,;  ro^  d^;^^<ri  ^^cotov  rxi  u^£T£^«^ 
^oc^x  rxg  ifMiTE^xi  fioV^f,  dy  fxiy  rx  xCrx  yt,  ^  xa» 
PAtio),  fx  frx^  Cfxuy  (pxiynrxt  Xiyofj^iyx,  ^uxrofAiy  u>iv 
X^fck-  ii    <r<   fxn,    w    (piXoi,    »x  xy   ttoti    ^uj/at^eOa.— 

^ 2)g 

-  Sec  p.  592,  and  599,  ot  Jiis  commentary. 


* 


364  NOTES. 

De  Leg.  VII.  p.  817.— To  this  way  of  talking  it 

was  a  plain  and  direct  answer,   to  say— Ou^'  i 

avrn  o^9«Tr)f*   Ip  ruf   HOAITIKHS   x«i    rtji  HOIH- 

TIKH2. 

In  what  is  added — i^t  aXAn?  nx^ni  xa»  ironj" 
Tixtif— Aristotle  may,  I  think,  be  supposed  to 
glance  more  particularly  at  that  part  of  the  tenth 
book  of  riato*s  liepubliCy  where  he  exposes  the 
idle  notion,  current  among  the  rhapsodists,  that 
Homer  was  a  perfect  master  of  all  aits  and 
sciences.  And  with  respect  to  the  absurdity  of 
this  notion,  Aristotle  undoubtedly  agreed  with  him. 
But  there  was  danger,  lest  the  credit  of  Homer 
should  suffer  from  the  manner  in  which  Plato 
combated  this  idea.  For  those  extravagant  admi- 
rers of  Homer  not  only  asserted  the^^c^,  that  he 
had  an  accurate  knowledge  of  every  art  and  science 
.  on  which  he  touched,  but  they  went  farther,  and 
maintained,  that  such  accuracy  was  essential  to  a 
good  Poet :   Avayxn  yx^,   they  urged,    tov   «y«Oov 

i\hr»    d^oc   TTOUiVy   »i    /*»)    otovn   tlvoci    vomt  .      Now 

Plato,  whose  object  here  is  to  vindicate  his  rigid 

exclusion 


'  This  very  word,  6^9ojni,  is  often  used  by  Fiato  ;  and, 
particularly,  in  this  passage,  which  perhaps  Aristotle  had 
in  his  view — Kourot  y^tywt  ye  oi  '7r>£trot,  fut(nxni  *OP0O- 
THTA  slvcu  Tnv  h'^om  taii  ^^vxaii  ^of i^acrov  ^wofMv. —  An 
idea  which  he  rejects  with  abhorrence.  The  word 
(AWMYi  here  is  used  in  its  widest  acceptation,  including 
Poetry.    De.Leg/ii.  6^^^ 

*  Rep.  X.  p.  598,  E.  ^^.  Sen. 


NOTES.  -    365 

exclusion  of  all  mimetic  poetry,  and  that  of  //o;«er 

in  particular,  from  his  republic,  confutes  the  fact, 

without  confuting  the  general  position.     While  he 

shews  the  pretensions  of  the  Ilomerists  to  be  false, 

he  see?ns,  at  least,  to  allow,  that  they  ot/ght  to  be 

true.     For  he  flings  in  no  savings ;  he  no  where 

says,  what  Aristotle  has  here  said  for  him— that 

the  want  of  this  supposed  accurate  knowledge  of 

arts  and  sciences  no  way  affects  the  character  of 

Homer  as  a  Poet.     By  denying  that  he  had  that 

knowledge,  and,  at  the  same  time,  not  denying,  or 

not  cvpressly  denying,  that  he  ought  to  have  it,  he 

leaves  the  reader  to  understand,  that  he  meant  to 

detract,   on  this  account,  from   his  merit  as  an 

imitator.    And  this,  indeed,  is  perfectly  consonant 

to  the  whole  design  of  this  part  of  his  work,  which 

was,  to  discredit  poetic  imitation  in  general,  by 

shewing  the  distance  of  its  representations  from 

truth  ^. 


•  This  fanciful  argument  is  thus  shortly  and  clearly 
stated  in  the  Comment,  on  the  Ep.  to  the  Pisos,  &c.  vol.  i. 
p.  254.  "  Poetical  expression,"  says  the  philosopher 
[Ptato],  ''  is  the  copy  of  the  Poet's  own  conceptions  ;  the 
''  Poet's  conception,  of  things,  and  things,  of  the  standing 
"  archetype,  as  existing  in  the  divine  mind.     Thus  the 

Poet's  expression  is  a  copy  at  third  hand,  from  the 
"  primary,  original  truth."— See  Plato  De  Rep,  10. 
P-  597>  59^' — To  prove  his  point  the  better,  he  shews, 
that  the  Poet's  conceptions  are  distant  even  from  the  truth 
of  things,  because  his  knowledge  of  those  things  is  im- 
perfect and  inaccurate.  ?•  598,  599. 


« 


a 


ii 


^^ 


r; 


366 


NOTES. 


NOTE    231. 

P.  189.     The  faults  of  Poetry,  &c. 

The  original  is — ATTHX  ^e  rrj?  Troirrtxtif  ^nm 
i  di^A^r^a,.  The  word  dMrr^i;  appears  to  me  to  make 
strange  confusion.  For  Aristotle  is  here  distin- 
guishing two  sorts  of  faults  in  Poetry,  esseyitial  and 
accidental ;  and  his  expression,  presently  after,  for 
the  former,  is  ATTH2  17  a>a^Tia— "  a  fault  of  the 
*'  Poetry  itself''  As  the  text  stands,  therefore, 
it  is  just  as  if  he  had  said — "  There  are  two  faults 
"  of  the  Poetry  itself:  one,  of  the  Poetry  itself 
*'  and  the  other,  incidental^ — Accordingly  Dacier, 
Batteux,  and  almost  all  the  translators,  neglect  the 
word  auTti?.     Possibly  it  might,  originally,  have 

stood  thus: — ih  aAXnf  TE^vv^y  xat    TroiHTun?    auT»f. 
Tuf  AE  ^roiUTix*)^,  &C^ 

NOTE    232. 

P.  189.  If  the  Poet  has  undertaken 
TO  imitate  without  talents  for  imita- 
tion -  -  -. 

E»  ufv  yap   iroosiXtro  p»jutu<r«ff-Oai  aJuva^iAiav. — So, 

the  MSS.  But  divpaiMicc  never,  I  believe,  means 
impossibility,  but  want  of  ponver^  incapacity  \ 
This  was,  long  ago,  sufficiently  proved  by  Victorius. 
If  the  word  be  right,  some  preposition  must  be 

wanting. 

m>  i     .   II  , ■  ■  ' 

•  A^yyoiJLia  ^e  in  STEPHSIS  ATNAMEa2.     Mdafh. 
V.  12.  p.  893,  C, 


NOTES.  367 

wanting^.  Heinsius  supplies  —  KAT'  d^wotixixv. 
The  credit  of  the  conjecture  is  due  to  Castelvetro  \ 
Still  the  phrase,  fxifAYKTo^o'^on  \%t  oi$vvxij,iocv,  for 
imitating  without  ability,  or  talents,  for  imitation, 
is  haj'sh,  and,  as  far  as  I  know,  unsupported  by 
any  other  example.  It  seems  not  improbable, 
that  Aristotle  might  have  written  it — IIAPA  ATNA- 
MIN.  Supposing  the  three  first  letters  of  tlie 
preposition  to  have  been  destroyed,  the  passage 
would  stand  thus  —  /tAi/uijo-ao-Gat  *  *  AATNAMIN  : 
which  it  was  obvious  enough  for  the  transcriber  to 
viiscorrect  into  aVvva/unA^.  The  phrase,  w^ouXero 
/Ai^»](ra(rOai  ^a^a  (Tuva/Aij/,  would  be  clear  and  unex- 
ceptionable.     So,  cap,  ix. — vot^a  mv  ^vmfAiv  Tra^a- 

Victorius  remarks,  and,  I  think,  justly,  that 
Horace  probably  had  his  eye  upon  tliis  passage,  in 
the  lines — 

Sumite  materiam  vestris,  qui  scribitis,  sequam 
Viribus ;  et  versate  diu,  quid  ferre  recusent, 
Quid  valeant,  humeri.     Cui  lecta  potenter  erit 
res,  &c.  Epist.  ad  Pis.  V.  38,  &c. 

— where  Aristotle's  Tr^oon^uc^ui,  he  thinks,  is  ex- 
pressed by  "  sumite  materiam,"  and,  **  lecta  res  :" 
and  KocT  d^vvafAixv  glanced  at  in  the  other  expres- 
sions, but,  particulariy,  in  the  adverb  —  "  po- 
tenter'^ 


•M*. 


^  P.  602,  of  his  commentary. 


m 


368 


NOTES. 


NOTE    233. 
P.    190.        To    HAVE    REPRESENTS    THINGS 
IMPOSSIBLE     WITH     RESPECT     TO     SOME    OTHER 
ART,    &C. 

No  interpretation  that  I  have  seen,  or  been 
able  to  devise,  of  this  whole  ambiguous,  perplexed, 
and,  probably,  mangled  passage,  is  without  jts 
diflSculties.  All  I  could  do  was,  to  chuse  that, 
TV  hich,  after  the  closest  attention  to  the  original, 
and  to  the  best  comments,  appeared  to  me  "  mi- 
nimis urgeri."  I  will  not  attempt  to  drag  the 
reader  after  me,  through  the  detail  of  my  own 
doubts  and  embarrassments.  But  lest  my  version, 
from  that  degree  of  closeness,  to  which,  in  all 
passat^es  where  the  meaning  is  doubtful,  I  have 
thought  it  right  to  confine  myself,  should  retain,  in 
some  degree,  the  ambiguity,  or  obscurity,  of  the 
original,  some  explanation  may  be  necessary. 

By   the   various   expressions,   /utnAtjo-ao-Oai    xar 

ihyoL^ixy  —  ajwa^rtot    1!    xaG'     a\iry\)t  —  auT»)f  —  xaO 

lauTify,  and,  above  all,  by  KAKOMIMHTIiS  ly^a^h 
which  seems  to  fix  clearly  the  sense  of  the  rest, 
Aristotle  means,  I  think,  to  indicate  all  such 
faults  as  are  incompatible  with  good  imitation — 
that  is,  in  his  view,  with  good  Poetry.  All  other 
faults  he  denominates,,  xara  (ruiuPf/Btix®* — incidental. 
Faults  he  allows  them  to  be;  but  smaller,  and 

m 

more  pardonable,  faults  :  EAATTON  y«e,  11  f*»i 
ijVii,  &c.     In  this  class  he  reckons,  tte  «Vuk«T«— 

things 


NOTES.  369 

things  im^ssible.     The  expression   is  unhappily 
ambiguous  :  for  we  may  understand  either  d^mo^rx 
in  general,  or,  aVu.^ra  kxt'  lo^rpixnv  «  «'aAk.  rsxy^y. 
The  commentators  are  divided.     I  cannot  be  of 
their  party,  who  adopt  the  first  of  these  senses. 
I  see  not  how  impossibilities,  or  absnrdities  *,  in 
general,  could,  consistently  with  Aristotle's  prin- 
ciples,  be  admitted   by  him  into  the  number  of 
merely  incidental  faults  ^-xara  ^vf^.p^yt^^such 
as  affected  not  the  Poetri/  itself     We  must,  I 
think,  understand— «.>apr„^^r«  rf  aVumra— things 
inaccurate,  or,  what  is  worse,  impossible,  xo^r  Uxs-ny 
rsx^ny-'upon  the  principles  of  some  other  art  \ 

Aristotle  then  goes  on,  and  applies  his  solution, 
founded  on  the  foregoing  distinction,  to  the  norst 
species  of  such  incidental  faults— to  things  cl^vmrc,. 
Take,  he  says,  the  worst :  suppose  tlie  Poet  to 
have  represented  something  impossible,  with  respect 
to  some  particular  art,  as  that  of  medicine,  geo- 
graphy,  &c.     This,  strictly  speaking,   is  a  fault ; 

^.^ ■_     but 

•  That  the  aouvara  here  meant  are  not  what  he  after- 
wards calls  '^i9ava  d^wara,  probable  impossibHu/es,  but  such 
as  he  denominates  oAoya,  is  plain  from  his  instance ;  sraoa- 
Cityfxa,  h  T«  ^ExTo^og  hta^ig,  which  he  had,  in  the  preceding 
chapter,  expressly  given  as  an  instance  of  the  cJKoyov. 
See  Traml.  p.  182,  183.  vol.  i. 

*  In  recapitulating  the  different  critical  objections  to 
which  Poets  were  exposed,  he  expressly  selects  impro' 
bability,  and  vitious  manners,  as  the  justest  grounds  of  cen- 
sure. Ofd»j  ^E  STrm/JLYiJig,  xat  AAOHA  xxii  fxoyjrjiac. 
Cap.  penult, 

**  So  M.  Batteux:  see  his  note  on  the  passage. 
VOL.  I  J.  B  B 


11 


370  NOTES. 

hut  it  is  a  fault  that  may  even  be  justljitd  (IpU 
l^ci,)  if,  by  meaus  of  it,  the  Poet  has  answered, 
better  than  he  could  have  done  without  it,  the  end 
of  his  oum  art,  &c.— Still,  he  continues,  supposing 
this  not  to  be  the  case,  we  are  to  consider,  whether 
the  fault,  admitting  it  to  be  a  fault,  be  t«»  xoctx 
rn9  ri^vf^Vf  ij    xat'  dxxo   (ru/x(3£Pn)t©',  &c. — If  the 
pursuit  of  Hector  cannot  be  absolutely  j/^*//^^/  by 
the  6«ufx«ray,  the  exTrAngi?  which  is  produced  by  it, 
still  it  is  not  xaxojoti/ixnTWf  yty pot [xfxiyov ;  tlic  Poctjy 
is  good,  and  the  end  of  Poetry,  the  pleasure  arising 
from  the  wonderful  and  the  striking,  is  actually 
attained,  though  it  be  true,  th^t  it  might  have  been 
attained  without  the  fault  in  question. 

By  the  expression,  t«  tt^o?  aJT»>  rn¥  nx^rw  a^u- 
vara,   I   understand— with  respect  to  the  art  of 
which  the  Poet  speaks ;  not,  with  respect  to  the 
art  of  Poetry  itself :  though  I  confess  the  latter 
sense  to  be  that,  which  the  words,  avmu  tuw  Tt^i"!*, 
the  art  itself,  most  naturally  present.     But  this 
sense  of  the  expression  seems  to  me  to  be  utterly 
irreconcilable  with  the  sense  of  the  whole  passage. 
In  rejecting  it  I  have  the  concurrence  of  Victorius, 
Piccolomini,  and  M.  Batteux.— Besides,  that  the 
expression  itself  seems  to  be  jargon.     Tor,  what 
are  **  things  impossible  to,  (or,  xcith  respect  to,)  the 
"  art  of  Poetry  itselfT'— The  only  reasonable 
meaning  of  the  phrase   is  — things,  which  it  is 
bei/ond  the  pmcer  of  the  art  to  represent  or  imitate ; 
as  it  is  beyond  the  power  of  painting  to  imitate 
*  2  sounds. 


NOTES.  371 

^  sounds  \  But  how  can  the  phrase  be  applied,  as 
Dacier  applies  it,  to  the  oixoyoy,  "  deraisonnable— 
"  tout  ce  qui  est  absurder  Is  it  not  just  as 
possibk  for  Poetry  to  represent  a  horse  flying,  as 
a  ship  sailing  ?— The  sense,  which  I  have  given, 
seems  also  supported  by  the  antithetic  expres- 
sion that  follows— Tix®^  TO  'ATTHS— *«  its  awn 
purpose;"  and  still  more  by  the  clearer  phrase 
which  be  presently  after  uses--T»5v  HEPr  TOTTXlN 
tiX^r^y—''  the  art  to  which  these  things  belong:' 

I  must,  however,  repeat  my  confession,  that  no 
passage  of  tliis  treatise  appears  to  me  to  be  of 
more  desperate  perplexity  than  this  ;  nor  is  there 
any  of  the  numerous  and  stubborn  difficulties  I 
Imve  had  to  encounter,  of  which  I  wish  to  be 
understood  to  offer  my  solution  with  less  confidence. 
Here,  as  in  many  otiier  places,  had  I  waited  for 
perfect  satisfaction,  I  might  have  stood  still  for 
ever : — 

Kuvu,  og  ev  T^iodoitn  TroXuT^iTrrouri  zvorjcctc 
Eg-ri  efpo^^aivm '  yc^ochyi  ^£  01  ccXXore  Xocitjv, 
AXXoTB  Se^iTB^i^v  eTTifiocXXeroci  eig  oSov  IxSeiy, 
UaTTTuivBi  ^'  Ixargf 9e  •  vo©^  ^g  01  -^vtb  kvuoc 
EiXeiTott, — fiotXoc  S'  cil/s  fzirig  u^s^txTO  (SiiXyjg  ^ 

IT 

'  Plato  uses— aci/vara  EN  rri  te^vjt,  in  tliis  sense  :— 
Kv^E^vynvi  ax^^y  h  /arf®-,  ra  te  AATNATA  EN  THi 
TEXNHi,  HOI  ra  ^wara,  haia-SaviTai,  Rep,  U.  p.  -^60. 
td,  Serr, 

*  Oppian.  'A}4€U7.  III.  501,  &c* 

B  B  3 


■^1 


0- 


372 


NOTES. 


NOTE    234. 

P.   190.     According  to  what  has  beej?' 

ALREADY  SAID  OF  THAT  END. 

To  yoL^  rtx^  EIPHTAI.  This  reading  has  been 
questioned  ;  but,  I  think,  without  sufficient  reason. 
It  may  very  well  be  understood  to  refer  to  all  that 
Aristotle  had  said,  or,  at  least,  hinted,  about  the 
end  of  the  art — the  Qau/xarov,  ch,  xxiv.— £X7rX>jgi?, 
cap.  xiv.  and  xvi.  &c.  This  is  not  the  only  in- 
stance in  tliis  treatise,  of  reference  to  something 
implied,  as  if  it  had  been  expressly  said,— Sec 
NOTE  150,  p.  226,  227.  and  ?20te  ^ 

Victorius  illustrates  IxTrXnKTixwTf^o  by  an  apt 
quotation  from  Aristotle  himself:  Aoxi*  h  n*  EK- 
nAHHIS    0ATMA2IOTH2   ilva*  TnEPBAAAOTSA. 

Top.  lib,  iv. 

Strabo  says — MuOa  TEAOI,  nVomv  xai   EKIIAH- 

HIN.  p,  35.  ed.  Cas. 


titl 

,  t- 


-^OTt.    235. 

P.  190.  Whether  a  fault  be,  &c. 

IToTspwv  iTi  to  a/Aa^THjtAic  *    twi>    xara   t*iv   T£^vri>,  tr 

%Qt,T  aAA©  cru/xpfPyix©*. — I  cannot  perceive,  that  tliis 
wants  any  emendation ;  much  less,  that  it  is,  as 
Mr.  Winstanley  says,  "  nullo  sensu!'  He  contends 
for  the  certainty  of  ATonflTEPON—a  reading, 
which  Robortelli  says  he  found  in  all  the  manu- 
scripts he  consulted.     I  would  only  ask,  whether 

Aristotle 


NOTES.  373 

Aristotle  can  be  conceived  to  have  written  such 
a  sentence  as  this  ? — "  A  fault  in  the  Poetry 
"  itself  is  a  more  absurd  thing  than  a  fault  in 
"  some  other  incidental  matter ;  for  it  is  a  less 
''  fault,"  &c.  Yet  this,  I  think,  is  the  plain 
English   of   the    Greek — En,   drovccTi^ov   «>*   to 

a/xa^T»/xa    twi/    koctx   rr\v  ri^yrip,   »!  koct   a,\ho   <rv[jt.pe' 

P>IX(^'     IXXTTOV    TAP K,T.\, 

Victorius  contends  strongly,  and,  I  think,  with 
much  better  reason,  for  TroTi^uv,  He  says  well — 
''  Nam  gua  adjungimtur  videntur  significare  ita 
"  prorsus  legi  debere :  duo  enim  genera  pecca- 

torum  contraria  inter  se  indicant.  Utrorum 
"  igitur  peccatorujn  id,  cujus  arguitur  pocta, 
*'  videndum  esse  praecipit:  alterum  enim  eorum 
"  genus  faciliorem  excusationem  habet."  j).  274. 

NOTE    23(). 

P.  191.     Has    not    represented    things 

CONFORMABLY    TO    TRUTH . 


Oux  a,xy\U. — An  iTrniiAntnq  very  frequent  in  the 
mouth  of  Plato,  to  whom,  undoubtedly,  Aris- 
totle here  alludes.  ''  The  Poets  ought  not,''  says 
Plato,  speaking  of  the  representations  of  Hesiod 
and  Hovier,  ''  to  be  permitted  to  tell  us—cJ?  Ofo* 

fifotf    •H-oXifj.sa-i    re,    xoci    i7rtpsXtvH(ri     xai    fAocvovroct  ' 

OTAE  ya^  AAH0H\"— They  ought  not,  Xo^io^uv 
iirXvq    HTU)  rx    ly    a7«,    aAAa,    f/.x>sXov,    ivxiyetv'    w? 

OTT* 

*  De  Rep,  11.  p.  142.  cd,  Mass. 
B  B  3 


374  NOTES. 

OTT'  AAH0H  Tityoyroci,  ht  w^iAijiAa  roi?  piXXaKT* 
fxocx^fAoiq  I(rf(r0a»\ — So  again,  of  Homers  account 
of  the  cruel  treatment  of  the  body  of  Hector  by 
Achilles,  and  of  his  sacrificing  twelve  Trojan 
captives   to    the   manes   of   Patroclus   [//.   4/.] : 

JujtxTravTa  ravrx  OT  ^nfrofAtv  AAH0H  u^ntr^cci, — 
And  again,  presently  after — •u6*  otriot  raura,  OTT' 
AAH0H\  To  all  which  objections,  as  appears 
from  what  follows,  Aristotle's  answer  would  have 
been — oti  ira  ^ASlN. 


'note   237. 
P.  191.     Sophocles— DREW  men,  such  as 

THEY  SHOULD  BE,"    EuRIPlDES,  SUCH    AS    THEY 
ARE. 

The  difference  here  intended,  between  the  two 
great  Tragic  Poets,  seems  to  me  to  be  rightly  ex- 
plained by  Dacier  in  few  words:  "  Sophocle 
"  t&choit  de  rendre  ses  imitations  parfaites,  en 
*'  suivant  toujours  bien  plus  ce  qu*  une  belle  na- 
**  ture etoit  capable  de  faire,  que  ce  queWeJaisoit. 
"  'Au  lieu  qu'  Euripide  ne  travailloit  qu'  a  les 
"  rendre  semblables,  en  consultant  davantage  co 
"  que  cette  m^me  nature  Jaisoit,  que  ce  quelle 
*'  etoit  capable  de  faire."  p.  458. — It  is  thus  in- 
deed, that,  by  comparing  difl'erent  passages,  we 

shall 


^  De  Rep.  HI.  p.  160. — He  alludes  particularly  to  the 
famous  declaration  of  Achilles,  Od.  A.487,  which  he  im- 
mediately  quotes ;  with  other  passages  of  the  same  k.\ai% 

♦  yW./>.  174.    - 


NOTES.  375 

shall  find  Aristotle  clearly  explain  himself.  What 
he  here  means  by  aAi?9»j,  is  sufficiently  clear  fi'om 
the  synonymous  expressions,  0*0*  cIo-* — c*«  iv,  i 
trip,  in  this  chapter,  and  oixom; — xa0'  ^fxag — and, 
#1  vu»,  in  chapter  ii.  where  he  explains  the  different 
objects  of  poetic  imitation  *.  To  these  exprH- 
sions  are  opposed  another  set  of  expressions, 
which  I  take  to  be  synonymous  with  each  other — 
#»«  tUxi  in — Qiii<;  $et,  here;  to  PiXTiojr,  and  the 
*a^%$etyixx    uVf^t^^ov,    presently    after;     xaXXia;, 

cap,  XV    . — pAriokAf  1!  xaO  n^xq — ^iKThovxq  'Tiay  yvv, 

cap,  ii^  All  these  expressions  correspond  to  tlie 
various  expressions  of,  improved  nalurc — la  belle 
nature — ideal  beauty^  &c.  in  modern  w  riters. 

The  objection  then,  to  wliich  Aristotle  here 
points  out  the  best  answer,  I  understand  to  be 
this^ — "  Your  imitation  is  not  true\  it  is  not  an 
"  exact  copy  of  such  nature  as  we  see  about  us." — 
The  answer  is — "  No :  but  it  is  an  improved  copy^ 
"  If  I  have  not  represented  things  as  they  are^  I 
^  have  represented  them  as  they  ought  to  be." 

A  very  different  explanation  of  this  passage 
has  been  given  by  an  eminent  critic ;  but,  I  con- 
fess, it  appears  to  me  to  be  irreconcilable  with 
Aristotle's  expressions,  clearly  interpreted,  as  I 
think  they  are,  by  comparison  with  each  other. 
According  to  that  explanation,  the  answer  of 
Sophocles  to  the  objection — ax  aXjiOu,  and  indeed 
^  tlie 

•   TransL  Part  I.  S$ct,  3.    ^   TransL  vol,  i.  p.  146^  14J, 
i  Part  I.  Sect.  3. 

B  fi  4 


•M 


w^ 


376  NOTES. 

the  sense  of  the  objection  itself,  are  very  different 
from  wliat  Dacier,  and,  I  believe,  all  the  com- 
mentators, have  represented  them  to  be. — The 
explanation  is  this ; 

"  And  this  will  further  explain  an  essential 
*.ifcifference,  as  we  are  told,  between  the  two  great 
"  rivals  of  the  Greek  stage.  Sophocles,  in  re- 
"  tm'n  to  such  as  objected  a  want  of  truth  in  his 
"  characters,  used  to  plead,  that  he  drew  men 
^'  such  as  they  ought  to  he,  Euripides  suck  as  they 

were,      1o(poK\Y}g    l^u,    auT(^   fxiv    oiag     Sn    vomv^ 

Eu^tTTijJijj  J*£,  oiot  il(n/  The  meaning  of  which 
*'  is,  Sophocles,  from  his  more  extended  commerce 
with  mankind,  had  enlarged  and  widened  the 
narrow,  partial  conception,  arising  from  the 
contemplation  of  particular  characters,  into  a 
complete  comprehension  of  the  kind.  Whereas 
the  philosophic  Euripides,  having  been  mostly 
conversant  in  the  academy,  when  he  came  to 
*^  look  into  life,  keeping  his  eye  too  intent  on 
"  single,  really  existing  personages,  sunk  the  kind 
*^  in  the  indiridual ;  and  so  painted  his  charac- 
"  ters  naturally  indeed,  and  truly,  with  regard 
"  to  the  objects  in  view,  but  sometimes  without 
*'  that  general  and  universally  striking  likeness, 
*'  which  is  demanded  to  the  full  exhibition  of 
"  poetical  truth '^." — Again — after  an  illustration 
of  this  meaning,  by  a  comparative  examination 
of  the  Electra  of  Sophocles  with  that  of  Euri- 
pides, 


i( 


(( 


iC 


it 


c< 


it 


it 


li 


•m 


Comment,  on  the  Et,  to  the  Fisos,  p.  255. 


it 


it 


sc 


if 


it 


it 


NOTES.  3„ 

pides,  the  conclusion  is—"  Whether  this  repre- 
*'  sentation  of  Sophocles  be  not  more  agreeable 
''  to  truth,  as  collected  from  wide  observation, 
L  e.  from  human  nature  at  large,  than  that  of 
Euripides,  the  capable  reader  will  judge.  If 
it  be,  the  reason  I  suppose  to  have  been,  that 
Sophocles  painted  his  characters,  such  as,  from 
attending  to  numerous  instances  of  the  same 
kmd,  he  would  conclude  they  ought  to  be ;  Euri- 
"  pides,  such,  as  a  narratcer  sphere  of  observation 
^'  had  persuaded  him  tJicy  were'^y 

From  these  two  passages  compared,  it  appears, 
I  think,  that  by  l^a,  $n  tlmi — such  as  they  duo-ht 
to   be  —  the   learned    commentator  understands, 
such  as  they  ought  to  be  in  order  to  possess  "  thai 
''  general  and  universally  striking  likeness,  which 
"  is  demanded  to  the  full  exhibition  of  poetical 
"  truth:'     But  a  comparison  of  Aristotle  with 
himself,  in  the  several  passages  above  referred  to, 
seems  to  fix  the  sense  clearly  to  that  ideal  perfec- 
tion, that  poetic  elevation  and  improvement  of 
nature,  which  may  be   said,   rather,  to  exclude 
such  *' general  and  universally. ^^nVr/;?^  likeness"* 
of  ''human  nature  at  larger  and  this,  I  think, 
was  the  veiy  objection  made  to  Sophocles  by  the 
patrons  of  his  rival. 

According  to  the  interpretation  which  I  am 
taking  the  liberty  to  examine,  Sophocles  is  made 
to  answer  the  charge  by  denying  its  truth:  for  the 

answer. 

'       "     >  ■  < ' 

f  JM,  p,  239, 


m 


i     m 


€t 


tc 


t( 


u 


3^8  NOTES. 

answer,  as  here  stated,  will  be  this — You  say^ 
my  representations  are   7Wt  truCy  and  those  of 
Euripides  are  true.     I  deny  this.     You  use  the 
term  improperly.    My  representations  are  "  agree- 
able  to  truth,'"  because   they  are    "  collected 
from  wide  obsermtion,  i.  e.  from  human  nature 
at  large ;"  those  of  Euripides  are  not  agreeable 
to  truth,  because  they  are  representations,  not  of 
the  kind,  but  of  individuals.— The  answer,  as  I 
understand    Aristotle,    is    very    different.     The 
charge  is   not   denied  ^  or  explained    away,   but 
admitted  and  justijied.     Sophocles  says,  "  If  you 
would  have  men  represented  as  they  are—o^oi 
tl^^—you   must,    indeed,  go  to  Euripides.     I 
"  liave  not  drawn  them  so— I  never  intended  to 
**  draw  them  so.     I  have  done  better — I  have 
•*  delineated   mankind,   not  such  as  they  really 
<*  are,  but  such  as  they  ought  to  be."     Euripides 
does  not  appear  to  have  been  charged,  by  those 
objectors,   with  what  may  be  termed  individual 
improbability  of  imitation,  but  with  too  close  and 
portrait-like   delineation  of  general  nature.     In 
short,  the  difference,  which  I  understand  to  be 
here  intended,  between  the  two  Poets,  cannot  be 
more  exactly  expressed,  than  it  is  by  the  ingenious 

commentator 

f  The  reader  will  observe,  diat  in  all  the  objections, 
drawn  from  this  source,  the  truth  of  the  objections— the 
facts--''  this  is  not  true''—'*  this  is  neither  truf,  nor  as 
*'  it  ought  to  be,*'  &c.  arc  all  admitted.  Ouk  cO^Gr 
AAA*  oia  Jn.— Et  3£  MHAETEPnS,  on  Jjtoj  ^cwriv.— Icrw^ 
h  or  ^ihriov  iisv,  AAA'  wivi  ilXt^ 


C( 


it 


u 


tl 


it 


it 


u 


it 


NOTES.  3y^ 

commentator   himself,    in  the    beginning  of  the 

note  to  which  I  refer ;  where  it  is  observed,  [p.  253] 

that  "  truth  may  be  followed  too  closely  in  works 

of  imitation,  as  is  evident  in  two  respects.     For, 

1.  the  artist,  when  he  would  give  a  copy  of 
nature,  may  confine   himself  too  scrupulously 

''  to  the  exhibition  of  particulars,  and  so  fail  of 
representing  the  general  idea  of  the  kind.     Or, 

2.  in  applying  himself  to  give  the  general  idea, 
he  may  collect  it  from  an  enlarged  view  of  real 

"  life,  whereas  it  were  still  better  taken  from  the 
nobler  conception  of  it  as  subsisting  only  in  the 
mindr  Now,  if  we  apply  the  latter  of  these 
differences  to  the  two  Poets  in  question — if  we 
say,  *'  In  applying  himself  to  give  the  general 
''  idea,  Euripides  collected  it  from  an  enlarged 
"  view  of  real  Ife;  whereas  Sophocles  took  it 
"  from  the  nobler  conception  of  it,  as  subsisting 
"  only  in  the  7nind''— this  will  express  exactly 
what  I  take  to  be  the  sense  of  Aristotle* 

To  the  support,  which  the  common  interpreta- 
tion of  this  passage  receives  from  Aristotle  him- 
self, may  be  added  that  which  it  receives,  and,  I 
believe,  is  generally  acknowledged  to  receive,  from 
the  Tragedies  themselves,  which  are  extant  of 
the  two  Poets  in  question.  That  Euripides  is, 
in  general,  liable  to  the  censure  of  particular 
imitation— of  "  sinking  the  kind  in  the  individual;"^ 
I  cannot  say  I  have  observed.  But  who  can 
read  this  Poet  without  observing  the  examples, 

with 


m 


3?b  NOTES. 

with  which  he  every  where  abounds,  of  that  very 
**  general  and  unwersallif  striking  likeness^  which 
**•  is  demanded  to  the  full  exhibition  of  poetical 
*'  trmth?''  In  Sophocles y  we  find  more  elevation, 
more  dignity,  more  of  tliat  improved  Hkeness,  and 
ideal  perfection,  which  the  philosopher  expresses 
by  liis  Ota  hi — tF^oq  TO  pATiov,  &c.  In  Euripides^ 
-we  find  more  of  the  aXudf?,  the  oii.ino\f,  &c. — we 
are  oftener  reminded  of  the  common  nature  and 
common  life,  which  we  all  see  around  us.  And 
if  this,  in  conjunction  with  other  causes'*,  be 
sometimes  found  to  lower  the  imitations  of  this 
Poet,  beneath  the  proper  level  of  Tragic  dignity, 
and  to  produce  something  of  the  x«/xwJi«  tic 
»6oAo7«/x£k»i,  which  Longinus*  attributes  to  the 
Odyssey^  the  fault  is  amply  redeemed,  perhaps  m 
those  very  parts,  by  the  pleasure  which  results 
from  the  closeness  and  obviousness  of  the  imita- 
tion ;  certainly,  in  many  others,  by  those  precious 
touches  of  nature,  which  must,  at  once,  strike 
every  individual  of  every  audience;  such,  if  I 
mistake  not,  as  are  much  more  rarely  to  be  found 
Ml  Sophocles,  and  such,  perhaps,  as,  after  all  that 
we  have  heard  about  the  beau  ideal  and  improved 
nature,  can  only  be  produced  by  an  exact  tran- 
script of  nature,  as  it  is ;  of  what  the  Poet  has 
actually  Jt"//  himself,  and  actually  seen  in  others. 

The  truth  seems  to  be,  that  both  in  Poetry^ 

and  in  Painting,  if  tlie  sublime  be  aimed  at,  the 

Poet^ 

*•  Su^h  as  were  mentioned  in  note  33.  vol.i.     ^  Sect,  9. 


61 


€C 


4C 


a 


NOTE    S.  33i 

Poet,  and  the  Artist,  must  look  up  to  the  oix  AEI 
mon:  their  eyes  may  "  glance  from  earth  to 
heaven,"  and  they  may  "  body  forth  the  form  of 
things  unknozm,''  But,  if  emotion  and  the  pathe^ 
tic  be  their  object,  they  will,  neither  of  them, 
attain  their  end,  unless  they  submit  to  descend  a 
little  towards  earth,  and  to  copy  with  some  close- 
ness that  nature  which  is  before  their  eyes.  We 
are  told  of  Michael  Angelo,  that  "  his  people  are 
a  superior  order  of  beings;"  that  "  there  is 
nothing  about  them,  nothing  in  the  air  of  their 
actions,  or  their  attitudes,  or  the  style  and  cast 
"  of  their  very  limbs  or  features,  that  puts  mic 
"  in  mind  of  their  belonging  to  our  mvn  species\^ 
If  this  be  the  character  of  that  painter's  w^orks,  I 
must  confess,  for  my  own  part,  that  I  should  be 
disposed  to  turn  from  them  to  those  of  the  charm- 
ing artist,  whose  words  I  quote,  where  we  see 
human  nature  imp?vved,  but  not  forgotten,  I  am 
very  well  content  to  be  reminded  of  my  own  spe- 
cies, as  he  reminds  me  of  them.  But  this,  at 
least,  is  certain,  that  such  a  character,  applied  to 
a  Tragic  Poet,  would  be  the  severest  ceiisure  that 
criticism  could  pronounce*. 

^  Sir  Jos.  Reynolds's  Discourse  s,  &c.  p.  170. 

*  The  writer  just  quoted,  among  other  excellent 
observations  on  this  subject,  in  hh  notes  on  Du  Frcsnov, 
allows,  that,  even  in  painting,  "  a  dash  of  individuality  is 
*^  sometimes  necessary  to  give  an  interest,^* 


X 


38* 


NOTES. 


1.4 


I 


s'i' 


NOTE    238. 

P.  191.     But,  as  Xenophanes  says,  &c. 

Thus  all  tlie  MSS.  and  editions.  Victorius  pro- 
posed— aAA'  K  SA^H  rxSi :  and  supported  his 
conjecture  by  tlie  following  fragment  of  XenO" 
phanes,  preserved  in  Sext.  Empiricus,  to  which  he 
supposes  Aristotle  to  allude : 

Ka*  TO  f^Bv  iv  ZA<I>EL  irig  uvtj^  iJlsv,  iSe  rig  l^oct 
"Etdcasy  oifA(pi  66UV  t6,  Koti  o<r(roc  Xeyco  'TTBdi  ttuvtcov. 
E»  yx^  x.a.1  rex,  fzccXi^x  TTXOI  TereXifTf^ivov  bIttcov, 
AuT®*  iiJLccg  iyc  olSe,  Sok®^  S'  Itti  Troctri  TervKTon*. 

Few  conjectural  emendations  invite  assent  by  a 
more  remarkable  union  of  ingenuity  and  proba- 
bility: and,  as  it  appears  to  me,  that,  without 
some  emendation,  nothing  consistent  or  satisfactory 
can  be  made  of  the  passage,  we  need,  I  think, 
have  little  scruple  in  admitting  the  reading  of 
Victorius  as  true,  till  manuscript  authority  pro- 
duces something  better. 

Xenophanes  is  here  introduced,  probably,  be- 
cause he  had  written  against  the  theology  of 
Homer  and  Hesiod  ^     The  following:  lines  are 

quoted  from  him  by  Sextus  Empiricus : 

navTflt 

*  The  sense  is— "  Concerning  the  nature  of  the  Gods, 
**  and  of  the  universe,  nothing  ever  has  been,  or  ever 

can  be,  r^^rr/^  koown  by  man.     For  should  we  even 

chance  to  guess  the  truth,  we  cannot  kjiow  it  to  be  the 
*'  truth.     All  is  mere  opinion,* [ 

^  Diog.  Laert.  IX.  18. 


« 


NOTES.  38J 

navTo,  6e»,?  uH9r,x»v  'O^ttijf©.  ff  'Ha-ioS®.  tb, 
Or<r«  vx^'  uv^^uvoKTw  ovetSeoi  nxt  r^oy"^  set, 
KAEHTEIN,  MOIXETEIN  tb,  x«,   AAAH- 

AOrS  AnATETEIN'. 
By  alluding  to  those  other  verses,  where  he  de- 
scants  on   the  uncertainty  and   obscurity  of  all 
inquiries  relative  to  the  nature  of  the  Gods,  and 
asserts,  that  all,  on  that  subject,  is  mere  conjecture 
and  opinion,  Aristotle  seems,  slily  enough,  to  have 
intended  to  make  Xenophanes  answer  himself; 
and  to  excuse    Homer's  theology,  even  by  the 
testimony  of  one  who  had  been  most  forward  to 
condemn  it     "  These  7mj/  be  opinions  taken  up 
"  at  random,  as  Xemphaties  says ;  and  his  repre- 
'  sentation  of  the  Gods  may  be  the  true :— but, 
^  as  he  himself  owns,  these  are  matters  ?2ot  ckariy 
'  hiown.~-Ax\'  i  ^ap„  T«^,.— Homer  was  there- 
'  fore  right,   as   a   Poet,    in  following   popular 
'  tradition  and  belief." 

Aristotle  also  alludes  here,  without  doubt,  to 
the  objections  of  Plato,  De  Repub.  11.  p.  150,  &c. 
td.  Massey. 

I  cannot  forbear  to  mention  one  curious  maxim 
•f  Xenophanes  about  drinking,  which  we  find  in 
some  pleasant  elegiac  lines  preserved  in  Athe,iaus. 
Il  was  his  opinion,  it  seems,  that  no  man  had 
drunk  too  much,  provided  he  was  able  to  walk 
home  without  a  guide. 

0"%' 


See  the  Poesh  PMosopiicaof  H.  Stephens,  p.  36.  where 
other  frag,„e„ts  of  this  philosopher  are  coined 
See  iirMARK  32.  p.  467  of  this  volume. 
^^^-  "•  B  B  8 


if^ 


584  NOT     E    S. 

OJ%'  vficig  'Xtvziv  S'  DTTO^rov  ^ivj  t'XJ^v  ccptK0t9 

OUoiS^  ANET  nponoAOY. 

-    j^then.  /».  462. 

And  what  says  the  sctcrc  ond  moral  Pi  a  to  oh 
this  subject? — He  forbids  ■  w^^i  t:ii.>  .ulul- 

grnrr.  hut  uUosvs  it  to  r>W;-  -s^r.  h,  xc^i  .To^ooivta; 
Tc-xtA^xii^^    TON    NEGX    ..  Till  the  age 

of  1 8,  he  allows  no  wine ;  ior,  to  drink  it  ut  that 
time  01  li.c,  he  says,  is  "  adda.j,  Jirc  to  fin\  both 

"  in  hod  I  and  mmd!^ — -nryj^  £7ri  ttmo  hyiTVoew^  nf  ri 
ro  a-tafAix,  xat  mv  vf/up^nv.  From  1 8  to  30,  a  Twdc- 
rate  use  of  wine  might  be  allowed: — oIvh  ytvKr^oti 
rs  METPIOT.     At  40,  and  after,  it  might  be  used 

in  di  jolly  kind  of  way — lU  ^rai^tav* wr«  dunl^Af 

iixa.;,  xat  Svtr^vfxix;  AH0HN  yiyno-Oai,  fx(iKaxuTi^o¥ 
fx  (rxX»)^oTf^«  TO  m?  4't^x*'f  ''^^J  xaOaTTf^  £»?  ^uj 
wihfiov   EWTfOckxa,    ytykOjiAikov  •     xat   arwf    luTrAaroTi^ot 

f^ai.  For  wine,  says  he,  was  given  to  man,  as — 
— De  Leg.  II.  p.  666.  ed.  Serr, 

KOTE  239. 
P.   192.     Whether    what    is    said,    oa 

DONE,  &c. 

I  believe  Vktoriiis  is  right  in  referring  this  to 
the  accusation,  or  iViT»/x»)(r*f,  which  Aristotle,  at 
the  end  of  the  (Chapter,  expresses  by  «Jf  ^xaPi^a. 
**  Arbitror  autem  rationem  banc  jx^tinere  ad  for- 
*'  mam  earn,  quam  vocavit,  «?  pAoPi^a.  Docel 
"  enim  nunc,  si  poeta  arguitur,  quod  personam 

*'  aliquam 


NOTES.  ^s^ 

**  aliquam  induxerit,  quae  quippiam  dixerit  aut 
"  fecerit,  quod  merit6  reprehendi  possit,  aut  spe- 
"  ciem  habeat  ywcendi,  quomodo  illud  defend! 
''  purgarique  debeat."  p.  278.  It  is  true,  the 
word  ^Xot^i^oy  does  not  here  occur :  but  Aristotle 
uses  other  words,  as  synonymous,  at  the  conclusion 
o^  the  chapter ;  as,  /^•x^n^ia,  -rr^yy^^ix :  and  here, 
the  same  thing  is  sufficiently  indicated  by  the 
moral  expressions,  fxn  xaA«f,  and  (pavXov.  And 
though  this  solution  cannot,  that  I  see,  be  consi- 
dered as  arising  from  the  application  of  any  of 
the  three  principles  laid  down  at  the  beginning  of 
the  ch9pter,  yet  it  seems  plainly  connectedy  as  I 
have  observed  in  the  notes  on  the  translation,  with 
what  precedes. 

* 

NOTE     240. 

P.  193.  For  the  solution  of  some  ob- 
jections, W^E   MUST   have   recourse  TO   THE 

diction.    . 

Ta  iiy  TT^og  my  Xi^iy  o^uyrx  $6i  iixXvuv,  So,  Un- 
doubtedly, the  passage  should  be  punctuated;  not, 
as  in  some  editions,  very  absurdly,  t«  $i  tt^o?  rnv 
Afjtif,  o^wkTa  (Tfi  (TtaXuftv :  of  which  the  fair,  and 
only  fair,  translation  would  be—''  Those  objec- 
"  tions,  which  relate  to  the  diction,  we  must  solve 
"  by  looking  at  them^V  Goulston,  who  adopts 
this  perverse  construction,  is  forced  to  supply : — 

"  his 


n 


*  "  Quae  vero  ad  dictionem  pertinent,  oportet  intuentem 
solvere"  Ed,  Cantab,  I 'j^^,  *    x 

VOL.  II.  C  C 


I, 


>, 


K 


386  NOTES 

"  his  rmdis  intuentem:"  and  Heinsius  has  inserted 
irwf  in  his  text ;  on  what  authority,  I  know  not,. 
But  the  true  construction  certainly  is,  o^u^vjx  fr^og 
rnv  Xs^iv — i.  e.  by  having  an  eye  to,  or,  considering, 
*'  the  diction."     And  so  the   passage  was,  long 
ago,  well  explained  by  Victorius ;  who  was  fol- 
lowed by  Castelvetro,   Piccolomini,   and  Beni. — 
Dacier,  though  he  translates  rightly,  mistakes  the 
sense  with  those,  whose  translation  is  wrong.     He 
supposes  Aristotle  here  to  be  suggesting  answers 
to  objections  against  the  diction.    But  the  instances 
might  have  set  him  right ;  none  of  them  appearing 
to  be  criticisms  on  the  diction,   but,  all  of  them, 
objections  to  the  sense,  though  the  ansu^ers  are 
drawn  from  the  diction.     Indeed  Dacier  seems  to 
have  seen  this,  and  is  therefore  forced  to  make  the 
dictio7i,  Atgif,  include  the  thoughts,  ^tavoiav ;  thus 
confounding  Aristotle's  clear  distinction  ^ 

In  this  whole  chapter,  zvords  are  considered  no 
farther,  than  as  they  afford  the  means  of  obviating 
objections  against  the  sense. 

NOTE  241. 
P.  195.    When   on   the   Trojan   plaiK 

HIS    ANXIOUS    EYE,    &C. 

The  censure,  here,  is  generally  supposed  to  have 
fallen  on  the  word  a6fn(r«f,  and  the  absurdity  of 
making  Agamemnon  see  the  Trojan  camp,   and 

the 


•>  "  La  diction  a  deux  parties ;  car  elle  coftipr^nd  ordi- 
"  nairement  ks  pcmets  &  rcxpression."  /.  468.  note  27. 


NOTES.  387 

the  Grecian  fleet,  by  ni^rlit,  and  when  he  was 
shut  up  in  his  tent.  To  this,  Aristotle  is  under- 
stood to  reply,  that  the  word  is  metaphorical',  he 
saw  witii  his  mind's  eye. — For  my  part,  I  would 
much  rather  confess,  that  I  do  not  understand  the 
instance  at  all,  than  suppose  the  philosopher  ca- 
pable of  thus  explaining  away  one  of  the  finest 
descriptive  touches  in  the  whole  Iliad.  The 
entire  passage  is  this: 

Htoi  ot  eg  Tredtov  to  T^ooI'kov  dBoTjasiS, 
Gay^a^fi/  TTV^oc  ttoXXoc,  toc  kuibto  iXiodi  ttoo, 
AvXuv  av^iyyuiv  r  evoTrriv,  ifiuSov  t  avGouTTuv. 

IL K.v,  II, 
I  can  hardly  think  it  possible  for  any  man,  of 
the  least  taste,  to  read  these  lines,  and  understand 
them  to  express  merely  the  thoughts  of  Agamem- 
non.    Mr.  Pope,  who  has  shewn  so  much  taste 
in  making  tlie   most  of*all   Homer's  picturesque 
descriptions  *,  has,  in  his  translation,  done  ample 
justice  to  this.     Yet,  in  the  72ote  \  this  cruel  me- 
taphorical sponge  is  applied,  without  compunction, 
upon  the  supposed  authority  of  Aristotle ;  tiiougb, 
after  all,  the  evident  corruption  and  deficiency  of 
this  whole  passage  leaves  it  dubious,  whether  this, 
or, 

*  See  Diss.  I.  vol.  i.  p.  46,  6cc, 

*  //.  X.  y.  13.  where,  in  the  note,  this  explanation  by 

metaphor  is  given  with  seeming  acquiescence.    In  Clarke's 

Homer,    too,    it  is   adopted,    and    aB^<Tuz   is  explained, 

"  animo  viderct :  secum  circuraspectaret.     Kara  (j^Toipo^af 

.**  slpmou,    Aristot,  Poetic,  cap.  xxv." 

C  C  2 


I 


388  NOTES. 

or,  indeed,  any  other  meaning,  assigned,  or  assign-^ 
able,  be  tlie  true  one. 

All,  in  this  description,  seems  clearly  Uttrd. 
The  verb,  <»d^»j(r«»,  is  no  where  m  Homer,  I  be- 
lieve, applied  to  mental  vision.  Still  less  is 
OaufAa^ty  applicable  to  mere  thought,  or  rtcoUection. 
And  what,  after  all,  is  Agamemnon  made  to  see? 
Only  what  he  might  easily  see,  even  as  he  lay  on 
his  couch— the  Jires  of  the  Trojan  camp.  Add 
to  this,  the  sense  still  more  evidently  literal  of  what 
follows— of  his  hearing  the  military  music  \  and 
"  the  bnsy  hum  ofmcn'' 

There  are  few  descriptions  in  Homer,  that,  to 
me,  appear  more  beautiful  than  this  little  military 
night-scene.  Whatever  may  be  supposed  witli 
-  respect  to  Agamemnon,  we,  who  read,  are  made 
to  see,  and  hear.  But,  take  away  the  literal 
sense,  and  you  take  away,  with  it,  the  whole 
beauty  of  the  passage.— And,  after  all,  what  is 
the  difficulty?  Agamemnon,  though  retired  to 
his  tent,  was  kept  awake  by  his  anxiety.  The 
enemy  was  not  far  off;  and  he  apprehended 
the  design  of  some  nocturnal  incursion  ^  In 
this  situation,  is  it  difficult  to  imagine,  that  he 
.might  frequently  rise,  and  look  with  an  anxious 

eye 


*  Pope  has  expressed  this,  I  think,  in  a  very  happy 

line  : — 

"  Hears  in  the  passing  wind  ibeir  music  blow." 

*  Awr/xsvEEj  J'  avJff?  cyj^^^  uanau^  iJi  Tt  tittiv, 


NOTES.  38, 

eye  foumvh  the  Trojan  camp,  and  towards  the 
ships?— for  this  is  all  which  the  expressions,  ES 
TTf  JioK  a'9f  ,«.£— ES  ►»!!«?  .Vol— here  imply.     Nor  is 
it  at  all  improbable,  that  he  might  have  these  views 
as   he  lay  upon   his    bed,  through  windows,  or 
apertures,  made  perhaps  for  that  very  purpose. 
The  commentators  seem  to  have  thought  only  of 
a  modern  officer,  snugly  shut  up  in  a°close  and 
comfortable  tent,  and  disturbed   by  no  fear,  but 
that  of  a  sore  throat,  or  the  rheumatism.  '  The 
tents  of  the  antients  were  mere  huts,  or  hovels  '. 
The  9Jiarfjiiee  of  Achilles  himself,  as  it  is  minutely 
described  by  Homer',  seems  to  have  been  little 
better  than  a  cow-house. 

As  I  have  given  the  passage  from  Homer,  the 
reader  may  not  be  displeased  to  compare  that 
sketch  with  a  far  more  finished  and  exquisite 
night-piece,  but  of  the  same  kind,  by  our  own 
great  Poet. 

From  camp  to  camp,  through  the  foul  womb  of 
The  /,um  of  either  army  stilly  sounds,  [night. 

That  the  fix'd  centinels  almost  receive 
The  secret  whispers  of  each  other's  watch  ': 
Bre  ansncrs>e ;  and  through  their  paly  fUftie* 
Each  battle  sees  the  other's  umber'd  face: 

Steed 


i,    .    J'°^^""  teinporibus,  t^ntoria  noiidum  erant  //Wa, 

^    Achivorura  hx^uu  stipltlhus  li^hque  comtabant,  vimlnt 

'  /»/«-/«r<»,  humcque  aggc.ta ;   adeoque  tuguria  potius." 

Htyne  ad  VirgU.  jEn.  I.  Excur^.  16. 

'  //.  n.  449.  Pope's  transl.  XXIV.  553,  and  the  note. 

VOL.  II.  CCS 


If- 


390  NOTES. 

Steed  threatens  steed,  in  high  and  boastful  neighs, 

Piercing  the  night's  dull  ear ;  and  iVoin  the  tents, 

The  armourers,  accomplishing  the  knights, 

With  busy  hammers  closing  rivets  up, 

Give  dreadful  note  of  preparation  ^  Henry  V.  At  iv. 

NOTE    242. 

P.  105.     AuXojv  (TUPiyywv  0'  ofji.cx.hv, — //.  K.  v,  13* 

So  Aristotle.     In  our  editions  of  Homer,  the 

whole  line  is — 

AvXuv  (Tv^iyycov  t  IvqTrvjv,  oficclov  t  ocvQ^cdttuv, 
I  cannot  agree  with  those  commentators  who 
take  the  objection  here  to  fall  upon  the  word 
ivoirriv,  which  means,  mice,  ''  &  ne  se  dit  proprc- 
"  ment,"  says  Dacier,  ''  que  des  hommesr  This 
would  be  a  mere  verbal  objection  ;  for  the  nwan- 
ing  is  plain  enough.  But  Aristotle,  as  I  have 
already  observed,  is  not  here  considering  criticisms 
on  the  diction,  but,  such  criticisms  on  the  <r»«yo»«, 
or  thoughts,  as  may  be  obviated  by  means  of  the 

diction. 

Farther;  he  is  here  shewing,  how  objections 
may  be  removed  by  having  recourse  to  meta- 
phor—by saying,  "the  expression  is  not  to  be 
'"  taken  in  its  proper,  but,  in  its  metaphorical 
"  sense."  But  Dacier's  explanation  makes  the 
objection  to  be,  not  the  impropriety  of  the  literal 
sense,  (for  that  was  out  of  the  question  here), 
but  only  the  impropriety,  or  harshness,  of  the 

metaphor ; 


8  See  REMARK  33.  p.  467  of  this  vol. 


J 


NOTES.  391 

metaphor;  and  the  anszver,  according  to  him,  is 
no  other,  thiitn  a  denial  of  the  charge,  and  a  justi- 
fication of  the  metaphor.  And  this  will  be  equally 
the  case,  whether  we  take  Aristotle's  quotation  as 
it  stands — f^\J^^yy(^)y  0'  ofAK$ov — or  suppose  him  to 
mean,  a-v^^yyuv  T  IvoTTDp,  as  we  read  it  in  our  edt 
lions :  except,  that  the  former  would  be  much  the 
bolder  and  harsher  metaphor  of  the  two. 

So  much  then  for,  what  the  criticism  was  Twt. 
What  it  was,  must  always,  I  fear,  in  the  present 
condition  of  the  text,  remain  a  problem.  One 
conjecture  only  occurs  to  me,  and  that,  such  as  I 
cannot  take  upon  me  to  offer  with  any  degree  of 
confidence.  Perhaps  Aristotle  had,  originally, 
quoted,  or  meant,  at  least,  to  refer  to,  the  whole 
verse,  as  we  read  it;  and  the  censure,  might  be 
pointed  at  the  expression — *OMAAON  r  (kp^^uttuu. 
The  proper  and  derivative  sense  of  ofji.«.$^  seems 
to  be  that  of  a  crowd,  a  multitude,  a  heap  * ;  its 
secondary  sense,  by  a  common  metonymy  of 
came  for  effect,  the  murmur,  or  tumult,  occasioned 
by   a    multitude.      So   Ilesi/chius  :    *0/xa^®*  — 

(l.)  A0POI2I2:,  (2.)  QOPTBOS.  (l.)  OXAOS, 
(2.)  TAPAX02.— 2TPAT02,  «Vo  ra,  c>8.— Per- 
haps, then,  some  hypercritic  might  take,  or  chuse 
to  take,  the  word  here  in  its  primary  sense,  of 
multitude,  and  ask,  how  Agamemnon  could,   by 

night, 

•  In  the  Orphean  jirgonautics,  v.  1 12,  '^atuxBn  'OMA- 
A02,  occurs,  for  "  a  heap  of  sand."  Apotlon,  Rhodius 
uses  the  word  in  the  same  sense — as,  1.  347.  IV.  198. 

C  C   4 


39^  NOTES. 

night,  perceive  and  *'  xvonder  at,''  the  multitude  of 
men  ?  6«u^«^fi/  -  o/xix^oy  a^O^wTrwv.  To  this  it  would 
be  a  prop;:^r  answer,  to  say— you  mistake  the 
n-eaniny:  of  the  word  of^x^oy :  it  is  not  used  here 
in  its  proper  sense,  of  a  multitude,  but,  in  its  me- 
liphorical  sense,  for  the  effect  produced  by  the 
"Doices  and  the  bustle  of  a  multitude.  The  cri- 
ticism, I  confess,  would  be  frivolous  enough ;  yet 
not  more  so  than  many  others,  to  which  Aristotle 
has  condescended  to  furnish  answers.  It  will 
perhaps  be  tliought  a  more  solid  objection  to  my 
conjecture,  that  the  word,  ofxati©*,  seems  to  be 
constantly  used  by  Homer  in  the  secondary  sense. 
So,  //.  M.  471. — B.  96.  —  Od,  K.  556  :  Kiku/txfvwr 
i'  ira^wv  OMAAON  KAI  AOTnON  AKOT2AS.  Nor 
can  I  say,  that  I  have  found  any  instance  in 
Homer,  of  this  word  used  in  its  primary  sense. 
1  he  other  sense  may,  therefore,  appear  too  com- 
mon and  established  to  have  admitted  of  any  dif- 
ficulty.  But  to  this  circumstance,  a  critic,  disposed 
to^^cavil,  and  furnished  with  sufficient  authorities 
for  the  prnnary  sense  from  other  authors,  may 
easily  be  imagined  to  have  paid  no  regard. 

NOTE  243. 
P.  195.     All,  is  put  for  many — . 

TO  yrn^  riANTEZ,  «vt*  t»  IIoAXs,  xara  fAiru^opoiv 

tl^riToct,  The  word,  ?ra»TK,  does  not  occur  in  any 
of  tiie  preceding  examples.  But,  says  M.  Batteux, 
it  is  xirtually  contained  in  the  first  example — 

AAAOI 


notes;  39^ 

AAAOI  fiiv  fx   ieoi   re   xat    avr^ff,   &C. — for  dWot 

means  HANTES  aAAii.  "  Aristote  traduit  Ijdee, 
&  non  le  mot,''  Dacier  understands  the  passage 
in  the  same  manner.  This  explanation  appears  to 
me  forced  and  iinprobable.  Aristotle  says  plainly, 

TO  7roc¥Ti^ tl^nroci — i.e.  "the  uxyrd  noLvm {* 

and  I  believe,  with  Victorius,  Piccolomini,  and 
Heinsius,  that  some  corresponding  example  is  lost, 
as  the  explanations  of  the  other  examples  appear 
to  be  likewise. 


NOTE  244. 

P.  196.      AIAOMEN  h  e'i  liyj^  dpicicti. 

Kai    TO     TTt^i    TO     huTTnoy    m    AyocfASfMyoy^,    in 
•OTK  ATTOS  0  Zm  tlmy— 

-  -  -  ciSo[/,ev  C£  01  Bvx®^  (XDB(rdoi,i, 
dx\a  TXli  ENrnNIXl*  ENETEAAETO  ^Tk^w*,.-^ 
De  Soph.  Elench.  p.  284,  cd.  Duval—This  clearly 
confirms  the  common  explanation,  which  makes 
Ilippias  substitute  ^Mfxtv,  the  infinitive,  (for  ^kTo- 
fAivniy)  used  imperatively,  instead  of  it^ofxiv^  the 
first  person  plural  of  the  present  tense. 

A  very  curious  solution  this.  Jupiter  tells  no 
lie.  He  only  orders  the' dream  to  lie  for  him: 
"  Ce  qui  est  trh  different,''  says  Dacier;  "  car 
'*  alors  le  mensonge  ne  vient  pas  de  Jupiter,  il 
"  vient  du  songe."— Dacier  tells  us  also,  that 
this  hemistich,  which  does  not  appear  in  our  copies 

of 


394  NOTES. 

of  Homer  *,  was  altered,  *'  par  nue  fraude pieuseJ^ 
I  cannot  see  any  great  pie/y  in  the  fraud ;  because 
nothing  appears  to  be  added  to  the  impiety  of  the 
passage  by  the  words  objected  to,  or  to  be  taken 
from  it,  by  the  suppression  of  them.  If  the  words 
were  in  Aristotle^  Homer,  they  were  probably  in 
Plato  h  also.  Yet,  in  the  passage  at  the  end  of 
the  second  book  of  his  Republic,  where  he  alludes 
to  this  part  of  Homer,  he,  very  properly,  takes 
no  notice  of  these  words,  but  censures  the  whole 
circumstance,  of  Jupiter's  being  represented  as 
sending  such  a  deceitful  dream : — rnv  t»  lyMirvm 
nOMnHN  bVo  Aii^*  T»  AyxfAtiA.yoyi  \ — The  theology, 
indeed,  of  this  charming  writer,  was  of  a  very 
different  complexion  from  that  of  Hippias,  or  of 

Dacier. — Kofxih  «f «  o  0EO2  aVXav  xa*  aAiiOf?,  iv 
ri  ioyu,  xa»  Iv  Xoyu'  x«»  in  avr@*  jUEGirarat,  kti 
m>Ji»i  ij^ccrrarot,  urt  xocroc  f avTa(r*af,  kti  xatx  Xoyaf, 


NOTE  245. 
P.  196.      To  /xiv  OT  xaraTTuOfTa*  ©Vl^fw. 

This  correction,  also,  of  Hippias,  is  somewhat 
more  explicitly  mentioned,  De&j^A.  Elench.p.  284. 
The  passage  was  censured  as  absurd,  («?  aro^w^ 
fi^nxora)  by  those  critics  who  read  5.     But  what 

the 


*  Instead    of  it,  we   read — TfAjfccri   h  m$s    ipwrcu. 
//.B.  15.— See  Clarke's  note. 

^  P.  154,  ed.  Mass,  *  Jbid, 


NOTES.  395 

the  absurdity  was,  we  are  not  told  by  Aristotle. 
His  commentators  tell  us,  that  it  consisted  in  first 
calling  the  post  "rfn/,"  aJop*,  and  then  saying — 
*'  where  it  was  7^otted  by  rain''  I  cannot  say 
I  comprehend  this.  Are  rottemiess  and  dryness^ 
as  Beni  very  well  asks,  incompatible? — Nor  is  it 
clear,  what  construction,  or  what  sense,  was  given 
to  the  passage,  by  those  w  ho  read  «,  instead  of  ». 
— But  the  reader  will  hardly  thank  me  for  detain- 
ing him  with  a  dissertation  upon  a  rotten  post. 

NOTE    246, 

P.  196.  And  mix'd  before  unmix'd. 

Zw^a  Tf  TCL  T^iv  AKPHTA,  [J'taXAarTOPTa  xi\i\j^u; : 

for  so  the  verse  is  completed,  in  Simplicius  and 
Athenceus.]  This  seems  the  best  and  most  au- 
thentic reading,  and  Dacier  s  the  most  reasonable 
explanation.  The  meaning  of  the  words,  ^oo^oy, 
^(a^oTEfoif,  was  matter  of  great  dispute  among  the 
antients  themselves.  See  Plutarch's  Sympos, 
Prob.  V.  4. — M.  Batteux,  taking  it  to  mean  pure^ 
unmixed,  reads,  consistently  with  that  idea,  for 
axfrjra,  KEKPATO.  But,  that  this  word,  whatever 
it  was,  meant  umnixed,  seems  piain  from  the  pas- 
sage of  Athe7ictus,  p.  423,  424,  about  Theo- 
pkrastus ;  who,  it  seems,  in  a  treatise  on  drunke?i- 

I  ness, 

•*  —  -. ..  — 

•  The  lines  are — 

Erw£  |y^ov  abov,  haov  r  6^yui\  Itti^  o^rjj, 

lU  >)..  327. 


396  NOTES. 

nesSy  adduced  these  very  lines  of  Empedocks  to 
prove,  that  the  meaning  of  l^f^^on^oy  was,  woipurc 
wine,  but  wim  mixed  xvith  xvater. 

The  expression,  i^oLWctrroyroL  x^x^uOaf,  seems  to 
prove,  as  Dacier  has  explained  it,  that  the  second 
verse  was  not  intended  merely  as  explanatory  re- 
petition, in  other  termSy  of  the  change  described  in 
the  first,  but  as  descriptive  of  a  contrary  change  ; 
an  interpretation  which  is  somewhat  supported  by 
the  two  following  lines  of  the  same  Poet,  on  the 
same  subject : — 

AAAOTE  jLfcfiy,  (piXoTfjTi  (rvvepxoiJt.ev  el^  ev  aTTotvToc, 
AAAOTE  S*  AT,  Si^    bkoc^x    (pooevfjLBvoc   veix.6®^ 

— and,  perhaps,  still  better,  by  the  lines  quoted  by 
Aristotle,  Phys.  Aiiscult.  VIII.  p.  408.  The  ex- 
pression— MA0ON  MoLvar  l\y»^ — is  well  explained 
by  Casaubon,  upon  Athenaeus,  />.  718, — ** /x«6ov, 
"  pro  fiwdf»(r«y,  aut  iwi^uxfnr«» : — didicerant  essCy 
**  pro  erant,  vel  solcbanty  esse,''  &c.  See  also  the 
verses  just  referred  to,  in  the  Phys,  Auscult. 
where  the  same  expression  occurs — MEMA0HKE 

Of  hdi^ivii  and  (TuvJiert?,  and  the  ambiguity  of 
punctuatiofif  as  a  source  of  sophistical  argumen- 
tation, more  may  be  seen,  if  it  be  thought  worth 
seeing,  Rhet.  II.  24.  p.  580.  De  Soph,  Elcnch. 
p.  284,  288,  303,  ed,  Duval, 

»  Poes,  Philos,  H,  Stefh,  p.  21. 


^•1 


NOTES. 


397 


NOTE  247. 
P.   197.       To  AMBIGUITY — . 

AiApPoXiet,  L  e,  suck  ambiguity,  as  does  not  de- 
pend on  the  different  senses  of  single  words, 
(which  Aristotle  calls  o>6ovu|un«,)  but  on  the  dif- 
ferent senses,  of  which  tzto  or  more  words  are 
capable,  independent ly  of  their  punctuatvni.  See, 
Be  Soph.  Blench.  I.  cap.  iv.  which  clears  up  his 
distinctions,  between    huipta-ig,  ocfAppoXia^    oi^uyw 

fAlXj  &c. 

NOTE    248. 

P.  197.     Whatever   is    pqurjRJ)   out    to 

DRINK   AS  WINE. 

Upon  V.  363  of  O^.  XI.  (— xi^wvra?  ocl^OTra,  olvoy^) 

Eustathius  says — xHTtriy,  £>|3«AXokTa?  tU  x^ocrneu; : 
and  Gataker  remarks,  on  occasion  of  the  same 
passage — "  ro  xf^av,  sive  xi^oc<r»i,  licet  miscere 
"  proprie  significet,  usurpatur  tamen  simpliciter 
«ifT*  ruy  «yX"**'>  ****  h^ovon  wmiv'  pro  ififundere 
"  in  calicem  scil.  sive  cyathum,  et  bibendum  por^ 
"  Tigert*r  As  a  proof  that  the  verb  was  so 
used,  without  the  idea  of  mixing,  we  meet  with  it 
applied  to  nectar : 

— KEPASSE  It  viXToc^  B^vQ^ov.    Od.  E.  93. 
The  Gods  hardly  drank  nectar  and  water. — But  it 
is  even  applied  to  pure  water  itself: 

0u/Aijf«f  KEPASAZA  koctoc  xpar®-  t6  xai  dtiuv, 
I.  e.  pouring  it  over  my  head  and  shoulders. 

'      O^.  K  362. 

*  bee  Clarke's  Homer. 


398 


NOTES. 


NOTE    249. 

P.  197.  Hence  Ganymede,  &c. 
I  have  adhered,  without  scruple,  to  the  trans- 
position mentioned  in  Mr.  Winstanlcy's  note  * ; 
which  had  been  proposed,  I  know  not  by  whom, 
before  Victorius  published  his  commentary.  Vic- 
torius  opposes  it ;  but,  I  think,  without  sufficient 
reason.  Piccolomini  saw,  and  has  well  defended, 
the  necessity  of  it,  which  appears  to  me  to  be  ob- 
vious.    I  would  read  the  whole  passage  thus  : 

To,    <^£,    xara   to   i^(^  rri;   Aif fwf  *   om,  rov    [fo7'ie, 
TOl    xixpflfuuiyop,    olvov    ^aur^v   flk«*  *    oiiv    ti^'nron    • 

i  viyovruv  olvov.  Ein  ^'  a%  raro  yt  x«t  xara  ^fra- 
fo^otv,      Kai,   X«Axf«f,   rm  rov  <rih^O¥    Ipyu^oixtm ' 

This  differs  fn)ni  Mr.  Winstanley's  arrangement, 
only  with  respect  to  the  words— cIu  ^'  dv  t»t« 
yi,  &c.  which  appear  to  me  to  beloog  to  the  sin- 
gle example  immediately  preceding  them  in  the 
editions.  The  commentators  agree,  I  think,  in 
making  them  refer  to  ail  the  examples.  But  I  can- 
not be  persuaded,  that  Aristotle,  after  formally  pro- 
posing the  ii&>  Afjf wff,  as  a  distinct  solution,  would 
immediately  say,  that  all  the  instances  he  gives 

might 


♦  £d.Ox.  1780,^.307. 


NOTES.  399 

might  as  well  be  defended  K»Ta  fAiTsc(po^otv.  I  un- 
derstand him  to  say —  "  though  t/iis  example, 
"  indeed,  may  also  be  defended  by  metaphor." 
The  expression  confirms  this  : — sU  ^  av  TOTTO 

Besides,  ther^  seems  to  be  a  pretty  plain  reason, 
why  this  instance  might  be  considered  as  a  meta- 
phor, and  the  others  not  so.  Nectar  was  the 
wine  of  the  Gods ;  and  the  resemblance  was  suf- 
ficiently obvious,  to  make  the  substitution  of  the 
one  for  the  other  an  easy  metaphor.  With  the 
other  examples  the  case  is  different.  Brass  and 
iron  are  indeed,  each  of  them,  species  of  ??ietals. 
But  the  common  genus  is  too  general  to  constitute 
that  obvious  resemblance  which  is  requisite  to  a 
met^plior.  Their  likeness,  to  use  the  philoso- 
pher's own  language,  is  not  perceived  by  thegenus^. 
Oil  and  vinegar  are  both  liquids ;  yet  the  substi- 
tution of  the  one  for  the  ottier  would  make  a  very 
strange  sort  of  metaphor ;  because  they  have  no 
^ther  resemblance  to  each  other,  but  as  liquids. 
Hence,  Aristotle  denominates  such  substitutitnis 
not  metaphors,  but  customary  modes  of  speech ; 
both  because  the  resemblance  is  not  obvious  enough 
for  metaphor,  and  because,  as  the  name  implies, 
they  are  common  and  e^^fl'i&Aed  expressions, (xu/»*«,) 
however,  in  themselves,  improper. 


I  III  »ii»ii 


Wtfmm 


MMMk. 


*   Sec   NOTl    183. 


■» 


4O0 


NOTES. 


^K 


f  I 


NOTE    250. 

P.  198.     The   meaning  is,   m-as  stopped 

ONLY,    OR   repelled. 

Dacier  supposes  the  critics  to  have  objected  to 
the  improbability  of  a  long  spear's  remaining 
fixed  in  a  shield,  like  an  arrow,  or  light  dart. 
I  cannot  so  conceive  it.  The  lines  themselves  are 
the  best  comment  here. 
OvSi  TOT  Amtao  Jaicpjoj/®*  oiS^i^y  tyx^ 

AXXcc  Svu  [jLiv  iXcca-cTi  Sia  TfTVx^f  «*  ^'  «f'  «t;  t^u^ 

HO'CtV '    IftU  7FSVTS  ITTVX'^^  f^XOLO't  KvXXOTTOOiUV , 

Totq  Svo,  x^^^^^^9  ^^^  ^'  ivicdiy  xxa-CiTi^oiOy 

Tijv  h  fjtiav,  XP^^'^^ '  ''7  P  ««"xiTO  %aXx«oy  lyx!^* 

II,  T.  267,  &c. 

The  shield  was  composed  of  five  plates ;  the 

two  first,  of  brass ;  the  two  irwermost,  next  the 

body,  (for  that  seems  to  be  the  sense  of  hioU  \) 

of  tin,  x«fl-o-»Tf^o»o  ^ ;  and  one   in  the  middle,  of 

gold ;  and  there  the  spear  was  stopped  :  THt  p' 

.lo-p^iTo.     Now  this  might   mean,  stuck,  or,  was 

fastened,  in  it  ^     But  thb,  it  was  objected,  would 

have 

^  It  may,  however,  mean — within  the  brass  plates.     If 

so,  we  must  understand  the  two  externa/  plates,  on  the 

opposite  sides  of  the  shield,  to  have  been  brass,  and  the 

_two  iron,  within,  and  contiguous  to,  them.     In  either 

case,  the  plate  of  gold  will  be  the  third  and  middle  plate. 

**  Meaning,  I  suppose,  according  to  the  eB©-  >Jtitu>i^  iron* 

•  As,  by  the  way,  the  same  word  clearly  appears  to 

mean 


NOTES.  401 

have  been  a  manifest  contradiction ;  for  Homer 
had  said,  not  only  that  the  gold  stopped  it— 
Xeu<r^  yap  l^uxax£ — but,  Still  more  expressly,  that 
the  spear  penetrated  txvo  of  the  plates,  and  that 
the  three  others  remained  unpierced.  But  the 
spear  could  not  well  be  fixed,  or  fastened,  in  the 
plate  of  gold,  which  was  the  third,  without  pierc- 
ing it. — And  thus  the  objection  appears  to  have 
been  rightly  understood  by  Victorius  and  Goulston, 

NOTE  251. 

P.    199.       Of    how    MANY     DIFFERENT    SEN- 
SES,  &C. 

I  may  say  with  Victorius,  "  hie  locus  valdh  me 
torsitr    The  words  are  these ; — to  h,  Troo-ap^w? 

tv^xifoci,  eJJ't  TTu;  '   fji.aXif    dv   ri;  uxoXajSot  xxtx  tuv 

xar  dvTix^v. — In  this  passage,  as  in  many  others, 
there  is  just  glimpse  enough  of  so7ne  meaning,  to 
mock  a  commentator  with  the  hopes  of  discovery, 
and  to  deprive  him  of  the  comfort  of  doing  at 
once,  what,  after  all  his  efforts,  he  will  probably 
find  himself  oblicred  to  do  at  last — of  abandoninsr 
the  passage  as  unintelligible.  For  my  own  part,  I 
do  not  see  o?ie  clear  and  satisfactory  sense,  that 
can  be  made  of  the  words,  without  conjectural 
emendation;  and  if  we  open  that  door,  we  shall 

be, 

_L_  ■  II    I  I  '  -    ■      -  ■  ■  I  ,    ^ 

mean  in  a  simibr  passage,  //.  H.  248.  But,  there,  it  is 
used  with  the  preposition  h. 

EN  Tvj  y  i^^oixarri  fivu  2XETO. 
VOL.  II.  D  D 


f    4 


402  NOTES. 

be,  again,  confounded  by  the  number  of  different 
senses  which  ingenuity  may  propose,  with  equal 
pretensions  to  our  acceptance. 

Dacier  translates  thus  :  "  Et  le  plus  court 
"  moyen  de  se  tirer  de  ces  endroits,  cest  de 
"  prendre  le  mot  dans  un  sens  tout  contraire  i 
"  celui  qu  on  lui  donne  ordinairement."  Piccolo- 
mini  and  Beni  understand  it  thus :  "  How  many 
"  senses  a  word  admits  of,  may  best  be  know  n  by 
**  considering  the  significations  opposed  to  it :" 
a  sense  preferable,  I  think,  at  least,  to  any  other 
that  has  been  offered,  because  it  certainly  does 
receive  some  support  from  the  fifteenth  chapter  of 
Aristotle's  first  .book  of  Topics  * ;  where  he  treats 
of  Homonymi/,  or  equivocation^  and  points  out  dif- 
ferent means,  by  which  we  may  discover,  what, 
and  how  many,  different  senses  a  word  will  admit 
of;  and  among  tliese  is  the  rule  here  supposed  tQ 
be  alluded  to ;  /.  e.  that  any  single  word  must  ad- 
mit of  as  many  different  significations  as  are 
opposed  to  it.  As,  for  example,  to  the  word  acutc^ 
we  oppose,  sometimes  grave,  sometimes  blunt^ 
sometimes  dull,  or  stupid.  Acute  therefore  has,  of 
course,  three  different  senses,  corresponding  to 
those  three  opposite  senses. 

But  though  this  explanation  of  the  passage  must 
be  allowed  to  give  an  Aristotelic  meaning,  yet  I 
cannot  think  it  a  meaning  that  arises,  fairly  and 
<;learly,  from  the  text.     In  particular,  the  expres- 
sion. 


mmmammm'mmmmmtgt 


*  P,  189.    See  Seit.  2,  3. 


NOTES.  403 

Sion,  KATA  rr\v  [soil,  a-nfAxa-iocy — for  SO  it  is  sup- 
plied—]   KAT'   ANTIKPT,    has,   to  me,    a   very 
suspicious  appearance.     I  much  doubt,  whether 
Aristotle  would   have  used  tlie  word  dvriKpv  to 
denote  contrariety  of  meaning,  or  any  thing  but 
/oc^/ opposition.     I  believe  he  would  have  used 
IvuvTiov,  or  durixufXByov ;  as  he  does  constant ly  in 
those  parts  of  his  logical  works,  where  he  treats  of 
contrariety,  and  of  the  opposite  senses  of  words  •* ; 
and  where  I  have  not  found  the  phrase  xojt'  avTix^u, 
once  made  use  of  in  that  sense.— However,  as  this 
interpretation  seems  to  be  the  least  exceptionable 
of  any,  and  I  see  nothing  better  to  propose,  I  have 
admitted  it  in  my  version  :  but  I  should  certainly 
not  accuse  any  reader  of  being  very  fastidious, 
if  he  preferred  a  blank  to  this,  or  any  other  mean- 
ing, that  has  been  given  to  this   dark  saying.— 
Emendatory  conjectures,  indeed,  have  occurred  to 
me,  as  to  others ;    but  none  of  them  plausible 
enough  even  to  impose  upon  myself. 

NOTK  252. 
P.    199.      Argue   from   these   previous 

DECISIONS  of  their  OWN. 

AuToi  KATAYH^ISAMENOI.  —  I  cannot  think 
this  word  so  free  from  all  difficulty  as  Mr.  Win- 
stanley  does.  ,  He  says,   "  Elgregie  dictum  xara- 

^yi(piirxit.ivQij  ut  sensus  sit :  Iji  perinde  Sicjudiccs 

"  tjuidafn 

^  See  Toj>ic  I.  15,  above  referred  to  j  and,  II.  7,  8,  ct 
passim. 

D  D  2 


404  NOTES. 

"  quidam  decernentes  ratiocinantur,"  &c. — But  the 
question  is,  whether  the  word  will  admit  that 
sense,  or  any  other,  than  tliat  of  condi'mningy 
passing  sentence  against^  &c.  which  is  not  to 
Aristotle's  purpose  in  this  place.  The  fair  sense 
of  xaTa\J/iift<rajtA«vo»  fl-uXXoyt^okTai,  is,  if  I  mistake 
not,  **  they  argue,  or  form  their  conclusion,  aftei\ 
or,  in  consequence  of^  having  condemned^' — what? — 
We  must  necessarily  understand  them  to  have 
condemned,  either  the  passage  in  question,  or,  the 
opinion  of  others  about  the  sense  of  it.  But 
Aristotle,  in  what  follows,  says  plainly,  that  they 
condemned  the  passage,  or  the  opinions  of  others 
relative  to  it,  in  consequence  of  their  oxvn  precon- 
ceived and  erroneous  notions ;  and  the  idea  of 
€07idcninatimi,  or  censure^  here,  would  be  only  an 
awkward,  tautological  anticipation  of  the  'EIIITI- 

Mn2IN,  dy  uTTfvavTtov  17  tw  auTwv  oit)o-£»,  which  fol- 
lows. I  think,  therefore,  that  the  proposed 
correction  of  Hcinsius,  xuTocI.O<pnreifAtvoi,  must  be 
allowed  the  praise,  both  of  ingenuity  and  proba- 
bility. In  my  version,  however,  I  have  contented 
myself  with  making  the  best  I  could  of  that  reading 
which  has  the  authority  of  all  the  manuscripts, 
and  all  the  commentators,  except  lleinsius,  on  its 
side. — Victorius  thinks  the  word  will  bear  the  sense 
of  *'  cujn  sententiam  tulermt ;"  but  he  adds — - 
**  quamvis  in  praepositione,  quae  verbo  adjuncta 
"  est,  vis  insit  contra  alios  idfacicmliJ" 


X 


NOTES. 


40s 


KOTE    253. 

P.   199-200.       The     objection^     ixsEir, 

THEREFORE,  IS  PROBABLY  FOUNDED  ON  A 
MISTAKE. 

A**  afA(x^rn[xoc  $e  to  7r^c>j3Au/A«  ux(^  If*.      "  MetuO 

*'  ne  hie  locus  corruptus  mancusve  sit."  Victor, — 
To  give  these  words  any  meaning  that  may  not 
easily  be  controverted,  is,  I  believe,  impossible. 
I  have  made  them  say,  what  it  seems  to  me  most 
probable  that  the  author  meant  to  say :  "  So  far 
*'  is  this  criticism  from  proving  Homer  to  be 
"  wrong,  that  it  is,  itself,  probably,  founded  on  a 
*'  mistake." 

NOTE  254. 

P.  200.    The  IMITATIONS  OF  POETRY  SHOULD 
RESEMBLE  THE  PAINTINGS  OF  ZeUXIS . 

xoci  TT^og   TO     fieXTiov'     to  ycca    "TraDocSuyfjLo,    Set 
j\l.  Batteux    proposes   this    arrangement :  — 

AXXa    xa*   tt^ 0?  to   ^gXriov '    ro    yoc^    iroc^ochiyiA-oc   in 
That  the  words,  TQiaraq  S*  ilvxi^  out;  Ziv^ig  ly^x(pvjy 

belong  to  the  second  way  of  defending  the  impossi- 
ble, by  referring  it  to  the  |3£Xti&j/ — oio.  on  tlvxi,  &c. 

,.  seems 

*  So,  at  least,  the  passage  is  printed  in  the  edition  I  use 
of  M.Batteux's  Quatre  Poeiiques,  (Paris  177 1,)  not  as 
they  are  quoted  by  Mr.  Winstanley,  p.  309.. 

D  D  3    . 


4o6  NOTES, 

seems  clear.  Nor  is  it  any  objection  to  thii,  as 
some  have  thought  it  \  that  Aristotle  had  before 
mentioned  the  paintings  of  Zmxis,  as  deficient  in 
the  expression  of  the  manners  ^  For  it  by  no 
means  follows,  from  this  deficiency  of  Zeuxis  as  to 
manners^  that  he  did  not  represent  tt^q(;  to  piXriov, 
with  respect  to  beauty,  grace,  dignity  of  form  **,  &c. : 

0 

and  it  seems  to  be  this  kind  of  improvement,  in 
painting,  by  which  Aristotle,  here  and  elsewhere, 
illustrates  the  /aj^tjo-k  jSfAriov^  of  poetry.  Com- 
pare, particularly,  cap.  xv.  Y^itu  h  fxi[jt.%vii  iV»  i 
T^ay.  /3At.  &C.  \ 

The  story  of  the  manner,  in  which  Zeuxis  is 
said  to  have  collected  the  PiXnoy  for  his  famous 
picture  of  Helen,  is  well  known.  See  Cic.  de 
Invent.  II.  i.  Plin.  Nat.  Hist.  XXXV.  9. 
Bayle,  art.  Zeuxis. 

I  agree,  therefore,  perfectly  with  Mr.  Winstanley, 
that  the  words,  romnt^  ^  t'lvxi  onsg  Z.  iy^.  should  be 
transposed  :  but  1  do  not  see,  that  any  alteration, 
farther  than  the  mere  transposition,  is  necessary. 

I  would  read — AAAa  xai  fr^og  t»  PfAriov  [scii.  Ji» 
avocynii]  roiSTug  ^'  thai  [scil.  ^it]  oisf  Ziufif  iyptx^iv* 
ro  y»^  froL^ochiyfxa  isi  C-jripi^tiy. 

^  See  Goulston's  version  and  notes. 

•  Cajj.  in,  TransL  vol.  i.  p.  119. 

^  Zeuxis  plus  mcmbris  corporis  dedit,  id  amplius  at  que 
nugustius  ratus,  atque  (ut  existimant,)  H9MERUM  secutus, 
cui  vaiidissima  (juaeque  forma,  etiam  ia  fceminis,  placet, 
QuintiL  XII.  10.  p.  627,  ed.  Gibi. 

I  Transl.  vol.i.  p.  146« 


NOTES. 


407 


NOTE    255. 

P.  201.  To  OPINION,  OR  WHAT  IS  SAID  TO 
BE,    MAY    BE    REFERRED,  &C. 

n^o?  a  ^ao-i,  roe,  a.Xoy(t :  \sCfL  hi  ivoLyny  {]  for  SO, 
I  think,  with  Mr  \\  inal  ailf  y,  the  pa.>:5dge  is  to  be 
understood ;  and  so  it  is  explained  and  translated 
by  Castelvetro.  The  expression,  a  (pxtri,  or  oix 
^oca-i,    is  used  by  Aristotle  as   synonymous  with 

Jofa,  and  oix  hy(.u.      Thus, — La,  ^AII  x«»   AOKEI, 

at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter:  and  afterwards — 

But  it  will  not,  I  think,  be  found  possible  to 
give  this  passage  a  consistent  sense,  unless  we  un- 
derstand him  to  mean,  what,  as  the  text  stands,  he 
does  not  expressly  say,  i  e.— "  By  general  opinion 
"  we  may  excuse,  not  only  the  Tn^otvov  divyurovj  but 
"  even  such  things  as  are  manifestly  improbable, 
"  or  absurd."  As  if  he  had  written,  tt^oi;  i  <p<xfi, 
KAI  roc  cixoyx.  And  thus  Goulston  has  supplied  : — 
"  Ad  ea  quae  aiunt,  [redigiintur  hc^c  qitcB  di.vi;  etl 
"  ilia,  quae  sine  ratione  sunt" 

NOTE  256. 
P.  201.     When  things  are  said,  WHjca 

APPEAR   TO    BE    CONTRADICTORY. 

T«  J'  tViifavTia  (Jf  el^nixti/x — .  The  words,  ti; 
(IfVf^tyxy  have  distressed  ail  the  commentators; 
^fld  no  sense,  which  they  have  laboured  to  force 

P  D  4  upou 


If  i 

If         'i 


408  NOTE    S. 

upon  the  expression,  is,  to  my  apprehension, 
satisfactory.  Heinsius  corrected  by  transposition — 
Tot  <5'  <Jf  vTrsvocurix  il^rtixsvoc :  *'  Ea,  qusB  tanquavi 
**  subcontraria  dicta  videntur." — An  easier  and 
^lore  probable  emendation,  I  think,  would  be — 

NOTE    257. 

P.  201.    And  in  the  same  sense — . 

The  word  is,  uxrAxj-rui; :  *'  simili  modoy'  as  all  the 
commentators  render  it.  I  cannot  say  I  have  been 
able  thoroughly  to  satisfy  myself,  as  to  the  precise 
meaning  of  the  expression,  from  any  thing  I  have 
found  in  Aristotle's  logical  works  *.  If,  '*  in  the 
"  same  7naTmei\''  does  not  mean,  "  in  the  same 
'*  sense,'*  I  confess  I  do  not  know  what  it  means. 
I  understand  Aristotle  to  say,  that,  if  the  subject 
of  the  propositions,  charged  with  being  contra- 
dictory, be  the  sanw,  and  spoken  of  in  the  same 
respectf  we  must  still  examine,  farther,  w  hether  the 
two  propositions  admit  of  a  se?2se  really  and  accu- 
rately opposite  to  each  other ;  which  cannot  be  the 
case,  unless  the  same  words,  in  each  proposition, 
have  exactly  the  same  sense.  And  this  meaning 
seems  to  be  supported  by  the  following  passage 
from   the  treatise  n£^i  E^fxnvna^ : — Ka»   Iru  raro 

ANTI^ASIS,    (nenipe)    y^pcraipixa-ii;   xa»    aVo^acK   at 
«yTixf»ji*fva».      Aiyu  h   «kT»x«i(rOas»,  Tnv  TOT  ATTOT 

XKTOt 

*  Sec  De  Soplust,  Ekmh.  285,  D.  287,  E. 


NOTES.  4^ 

xoLr»  TOT  ATTOT,  p»j  'OMnNTMHS  h  \  That 
is,  as  it  is  well  explained  in  the  analytical  Sy- 
nopsis prefixed  to  Duval's  edition :— "  Affirmatio 
"  &  negatio  opposita5,  contradictionein  faciunt. 
"  Oppositio  est  ejusdem,  de  eodem,  non  homo- 
nym^ ;  9iam  accipi  debent  termini  in  oppositione. 


**    EODEM  MODO  AC  SENSU." 


All  that  follows — viz.  wVe  xat  auVoi/,  11  TT^og  i 
auT(^  Afyfi,  ij  0  dv  f^cvtjtA©^  uVoOijTa* — is  either  so 
corrupt,  or  so  darkly  expressed,  that  I  have  only 
to  confess  myself  unable  even  to  guess  what 
Aristotle  meant  to  say.  Commentators  indeed 
have  explained,  and  translators  have  translated; 
but  I  have  seen  no  explanation  that  approaches 
to  satisfaction,  nor  any  translation,  but  what  is 
either  unintelligible,  or  unwarrantable,  or  both. 
I  do  not  mean  to  except  myself;  for  I  had  trans- 
lated  thus  :— "  We  must  also  consider  the  pei^son 
**  who  speaks,  and  whether  the  contradiction  be 
*'  to  what  he  himself  said,  or  to  what  any  reason- 
"  able  man  would  understand  him  to  have  said  V 
But,  to  wave  other  objections,  which,  no  doubt, 
the  learned  reader  will  easily  make  for  me,  the 

verb, 

^  Cap.  vi.  p.  39.  Elsewhere  he  expresses  this  — 
BXiyX^  MH/  ya^  iriv  avrKpaaig  ra  uuth  km  sv^,  MH  *OiNO- 
MATOS,  AAAA  nPArMAT02.  De  Soph,  Elench. 
p.  285,  D. 

*=  Alluding,  as  I  supposed,  to  the  former  passage  about 
the  verbal  vinvania,  and  Glaucous  answer,  viz,  the  con- 
tradiction is  only  to  the  critic's  erroneous  opinion,  and 
misconception,  of  the  passage :  o^oywj  7r.^QV7ro>afJi^av87i» 


in 


\i   4 


i  ! 


410  NOTES. 

verb,  uVoSfo-Sai,  will,  I  believe,  by  no  means  beaf 
this  sense,  (^f  supposing,  understanding — u7roAaj3fn». 
At  least,  Aristotle  seems  always  to  use  it  in  that 
of  advising,  suggesting,  &c.  So  Rhet.  l.g.p-  533. — 

crav  tTTonyeiy  |3aA»7,  o^x  n  «»  THOOOIO '  xai  rrap 
TIIO0E20AI,  »^a  n  av  IntzivKTua^.  Accordingly^ 
Goalston  has  given  the  word  this  sense  in  his 
version : — "  videndumque,  an  ea  in  re,  quod  pru- 
**  dens  prcEceperity  secutus  sit."  But,  of  what 
force  this  circumstance  is,  or  how  it  is  to  be  ap- 
plied to  obviate  the  charge  of  contj^adictiony  I  do 
not  see. 

Being  therefore  obliged  to  reject  the  only  version, 
■which  seemed  to  me  to  offer  any  tolerable  meaning, 
I  have  left  a  blank  in  my  translation. 

NOTE    258. 

P.  201.  When  excused  by  no  neces- 
sity, &c. 

\liv£Xa». — Such  was  the  confused  state  in  which 
Robortelli  found  the  text,  which  he,  very  ingeni- 
ously and  solidly,  rectified  thus  : 

rta  uXoyeo,  ua-TTSf  Ev^miSrig  EN  tu  AIFEI  •  THi 
vorn^uty  uo'iTi^  \y  ria  O^i^  ra  MeveXocVm 

Some  MSS.  for  Aiynnns,  give  Aiynnrw,  which, 
as  Goulston  has  observed,  suggests  the  true  read-r 

2  By 


NOTES.  4iif 

By  the  ^Egeus,  Robortelli  understood  the  cha- 
racter 'jf  that  name,  in  the  Medea  of  Euripides* 
To  thJb  Victorius  very  reasonably  objected,  that 
the  mode  of  expression,  iv  tw  Aiysi,  seems  plainly 
to  indicate  a  Tragedy  so  nan^ed ;  not  a  character 
only  in  a  Traoredy  of  a  different  name.  But  this 
is  no  objection  to  Kobortelli's  reading,  thouijh  it 
is  to  bis  explanation  of  it.  See  the  fragments  at 
tlie  end  of  the  Oxford  Euripides,  where  several 
passages  of  the  ^gcus  are  quoted  from  Sto- 
baeus,  &c. 

note  259. 
P.  202.     Thus  the  sources  of  objections 

ARE    FIVE,    &C. 

This  enumeration  may  seem,  at  the  first  view, 
to  be  deficient ;  for  one  of  the  objections  was — 
Oux  £xnh : — ''  the  representation  is  not  conform- 
*'  able  to  trulJu  But  this,  perhaps,  may  be 
considered  as  falling  under  the  charge  of  dxoy<m. 
For  he,  who  accuses  a  Poet  of  departing  from 
nature,  experience,  and  the  oi»  iv^  ri  jV*,  says,  in 
other  words,  it  is  improbable,  incredible,  absurd, 
&c.  Or,  when  this  objection  was  relative  to 
truth  of  another  sort—  to  theological  truth,  as 
violated  by  the  poetic  representations  of  the  Gods, 
it  then  came,  properly,  under  the  ^Xa^t^oy ;  it  was 
of  immoral  and  pernicious  tendency.  And  thus 
we  find  Plato  objecting  continually  to  the  theology 
of  Homer;    sometimes,    as    not    true  —  otk. 

AAH0H; 


412  NOTES. 

AAH8H*;    sometimes,    as   hurtful — ran    unHinn 

BAABEPA\ 

The  objections  answered  by  considerations 
drawn  from  the  diction,  (Sect.  5  J  appear  to  be  all 
reducible  to  one  or  other  of  these  Jive  sources. 

NOTE  260. 
P.  202.  /Or,  of  immoral  tendency. 

BXaPf^a :  i  e.  huj'tful  071  account  of  their  im- 
moral tendency.  So  the  word  is  used  by  Plato ; 
to  whose  objections,  and  to  the  very  language  in 
which  he  expresses  them,  Aristotle  so  frequently 
alludes.  Censuring  the  immoral  tendency  of 
some  of   Homer's    representations  of   his   hero 

Achilles,  Plato  says — OmV  oa-ix  ravrocy  XT  «A*iOi|  • 
-  -  -  xoci  jUTjv  To»?  yE  ocKiiii(ri  BAABEPA-— The  reason 
follows :  TTfltf  yot^  Ixvru  (ruyyvw/xtiv  eJk,  xaxa  ovt», 
Vfio-Ofi?,    wV    «^«    TOiauTa  'rr^(xrrH<ri    ri    xat    Itt^xttov 

"   O*  Ofwv  dyx^a-wo^Qi ."      '^i'  fV£xa,    Travrtov  t«c 

To»aT8f  /xuOsf,  jtxn    n^iv  voXXnv   lup^f^uav  jyTtxTwo-*   TOif 

woi?,  ^oi/n^ia?.  De  iiep.  III.  p.  176,  ed,  Mass. 

Compare  the  precept,  cap,  xv  *.  about  making 
the  character  as  morally  good  as  possible :  and  see 
NOTE  108.  It  is  obvious  however  to  observe, 
that  when  the  /Ao;)(^0Tif »a,  the  villai7ij/  of  a  character, 

is 


*  See  NOTE  235. 

*  See  the  passage  from  Plato  in  the  next  note,  where 
both  these  expressions  occur. 

»  Transl.  vol.  i.  p.  l43« 


NOTES.  4x3 

is  overcharged,  it  brings  with  it  its  own  antidote. 
Such  characters  as  lago  \  or  Glenalvony  can  be 
PxajSf^a  to  no  reader  or  spectator.  They  excite 
only  pure  and  unmitigated  disgust.  Not  all  the 
art  of  the  Poet,  or  the  charms  of  Poetry,  can 
cheat  us  into  any  degree  of  sympathy  with  them^ 
even  for  the  moment  in  which  they  are  speakintr. 
We  feel,  there,  no  such  struggle  between  immoral 
approbation  and  moral  indignation,  as  Dr.  John- 
son has  described,  in  his  observations  upon  the 
different  effects  produced  on  the  spectator,  by  the 
villainy  of  Rowe's  Lothario,  and  that  of  Richard- 
son's Lovelace.  Tiie  passage  is  so  much  to  the 
purpose  of  this  note,  so  justly  thought,  and  so 
well  expressed,  that  I  am  persuaded  I  shall  gratify 
the  reader  by  transcribing  it. 

"  The  character  of  Lothario  seems  to  have 
"  been  expanded  by  Richardson  into  Lovelace; 
"  but  he  has  excelled  his  original  in  the  moral 
"  effect  of  the  fiction.  Lothario,  with  gaiety 
"  which  cannot  be  hated,  and  bravery  which 
"  cannot  be  despised,  retains  too  much  of  the 
*'  spectator's  kindness.  It  was  in  the  power  of 
**  Richardson  alone  to  teach  us  at  once  esteem 

*'  and 


*  "  There  is  always  danger,  lest  wickedness,  conjoined 
"  with  abilities,  should  steal  upon  esteem,  though  it 
"  misses  of  approbation  ;  but  the  character  of  lago  is  so 
"  conducted,  that  he  is,  from  the  first  scene  to  the  last, 
**  hated  and  despised."  [Dr.  Johnson.  Note  at  the  end 
of  Oi/iM.]— Not.  so,  Shakspeare's  Richard, 


«c 


*l 


414  NOTES. 

**  and  detestation,  to  make  virtuous  resentment 
overpower  all  the  benevolence  which  wit,  and 
elegance,  and  courage,  naturally  excite,  and  to 

"  lose  at  last  the  hero  in  the  villain  \" 

^  NOTE  261. 
P.  202.  Or  as  contrary  to  technical 

ACCURACY. 

— Tlotpoc  T»jv  o^SoTJlra,  mv  xara  rij^vfiv.      Most   of 

the  commentators  understand  the  art  of  Poetry 
itself.  But,  if  I  am  right  in  the  explanation  I 
have  given,  note  233,  of  the  expression,  tt^o? 
ituTuk  Tuv  T£;^y»ii>,  the  sense  of  the  expression  here 
must  be  the  same.  I  understand  Aristotle  to 
mean,  the  rightncss^  not  of  Poetry  itself,  but  of 
ether  arts,  which  may  be  incidentally  the  subject 
of  the  Poetry ;  and  the  words,  I  think,  express 
tlie  source,  or  lU^^  as  he  terms  it,  of  objections 
relative  to  all  faults  xara  <ru/A(3fptjx^,  as  opposed 
to  those,  which  he   distinguishes  by  the  various 

expressions  of,  oc(Ji.a^rioci  xaO'   IxvTtlv,    &c*. 

The  other  interpretation  of  the  words  is  fairly 
liable,  I  think,  to  the  following  objections.  1 .  If 
we  understand  the  poetic  art  itself  to  be  meant, 
then  the  objection  to  faults  xocra,  (ru[A^i^m&' — 
to  impossibilities  and  inaccuracies  with  respect  to 
other  arts  and  sciences — will  be  entirely  omitted 

in 

*  Lives  of  the  Poets,  vol.  ii.  326. 
;  Sec  note  133. 


''NOTES.  4x5 

In  tliis  enumeration.     This  is  very  improbable, 
considering  how  common  a  source  of  critical  cen- 
sure this  was.     For  while,  on  the  one  hand,  the 
extravagant  admirers  of  Homer  made  no  scruple 
to  assert,  that  his  Poems  contained  the  principles 
of  all  arts  and  sciences ;  on  the  other,  we  know 
how  eagerly  the  Zoilists  caught  at  every  apparent 
inaccuracy  of  this  kind ;  and,   particularly,  with 
respect  to  his  geography.     One  instance,  at  least^ 
of  this  sort  of  cavil,  we  have  in  this  chapter :  the 
censure  of  the  passage,  'Oiti  r  a>/otp^®-,  //.  d.  489, 
fell   on   Homer's    ignorance    of   astronomy  ^-— 
2.  By  the  manner  in  which  Aristotle  here  men- 
tions, first,  the  five  sources  of  critical  censures 
and   then,   immediately,  the   twelve    sources    of 
Ai;(r£»f  or  answers,   it  is  plain,   I  think,  that  he 
means— answers  to  those  censures,  and  to  all  of 
them.     But  this  cannot  be  the  case,  if  we  under- 
stand essential  faults  in  the  Poetry  itself,  or  bad 
imitation:  for  this  admits  of  no  answer,  but  a 
direct  denial  of  the  fact.     Whereas,  if  we  under- 
stand  incidental  errors  in  other  arts,  all  will  be 
consistent;  and  et?en/ fault  enumerated  will  find 
its  answer  in  some  of  the  Xyernf,  wnich  had  been 
pointed  out  in  the  preceding  part  of  the  chapter, 
and  are  referred  to  in  this  enumeration. — 3.  If  the 
art  here  mentioned  be  the  art  ot  Poetry  itself 

and 


**  For  instances  of  such  objections,  both  to  the  geo- 
graphy, and  the  astronomy,  of  Homer,  the  reader  may 


€©iisuk  Strabo,  passim. 


i 


416  NOTES. 

and  the  faults  against  that  art  be,  as  I  understand 
them  to  be,  essential  faults,  faults  which  constitute 
bad  Poetry,  i.  e.  in  Aristotle's  view,  bad  imitatmi, 
this  plainly  implies,   that  the  four  other  faults 
enumerated  are  wo^ essential,  but  accidental  faults; 
xaT«  (rujtAJ3£(3Ti)c®».     But,  that  such  faults  as  impro- 
hability,  and  immorality^  (aXoyot,  (3xaPi^«,)  which 
had   just    before   been    singled    out    from    the 
rest,  as  o^9a»  i^7^^T^lx7^(^t^; — as  the  most  solid  objec- 
tions, and  such  as  admitted  of  no  excuse — that 
these  should  be  considered  by  Aristotle  as  faults 
merely  incidental,  not  to  be  objected  to  the  Poetry 
itself,  not  affecting  the  merit  of  the  imitation,   J 
xaV  'EATTHN  aixa^nai,  is  what,  as  I  have  before 
said,  I  cannot  easily  conceive  ^ 

Tlie  expression  itself — -rra^a  tijw  o^^omru  m* 
xoLToc  Tsx^nvj  is  indeed  ambiguous ;  and  tliey,  who 
prefer  the  sense  which  I  have  rejected,  will  per- 
haps think  it  favoured  by  the  similar  expression, 
dearly  applied  to  faults  against  the  art  of  Poetry 

itself,  in  the  passage, — Trorr^wv  eV*  to  a/Aa^Ttipa,  TWk 
KATA  THN  TEXNHN,  r^  xat  aAAo  (rvfxfiiQnx^^ 
The  expressions,  however,  are  not  exactly  tlie 
same.  1  here,  it  is,  xaroc  THN  n^ynv — "  against 
the  art :"  here,— xara  n^^v^v :  "  contrary  to  the 
rectitude  of  art.'" — But  Aristotle  had  before  used 
an  expression,  that  seemed  still  more  strongly 
to  point  at  the  art  of  Poetry :  roc  v^o;  ATTHN 
THN  TEXNHN  i^vyxrot :  w  hich,  however,  it  seems 

necessary, 


I  Note  233. 


NOTES.  417 

hecessary,  for  the  reasons  given  in  note  i;^^,  to 
understand  in  the  same  sense,  which  I  have  here 
given  to  Kocroc  Tix^vfiv,  But  that  passage,  and 
indeed  this  zvhole  chapter,  is,  in  its  present  state, 
so  full  of  obscurity  arid  ambiguity,  that  every 
interpretation  which  can  be  given  must  necessarily 
be,  in  a  great  measure,  conjectural  and  disputable. 
All  I  can  venture  to  be  confident  of  is,  that  my 
explanation  of  this  passage  is  consistent  with  my 
explanation  of  the  oUier ;  and  that  either  both  are 
right,  or  both  are  wrons. 

^^otE  26^. 

P.  202.  The  answers,  which  are  twelve,  &c. 

Horv  the  different  Auo-ri?  or  solutions  proposed 

throughout  the  chapter  are  reducible  to  1 2,  and 

which  are  the  1 2  that  Aristotle  meant,  are  questions, 

Hhich  the  defective  state  of  the  original  renders 

it  very  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  answer,  with 

any  certainty.     And  indeed  the  matter  is  of  so 

little  importance,   that  it  is  by  no  means  worth 

while  to  enter  into  any  examination  of  the  various 

modes  of  reckoning,  by  which  different  expositors 

have  endeavoured  to  solve  the  problem.     Ficto- 

rius,  indeed,  is  so  wise,  as  to  give  up  the  attempt. 

It  will  be  very  easy   however,    and  therefore,  I 

hope,  not  very  foolish,  just  to  enumerate  all  the 

Au<r«*f,  which  actually  have  been  mentioned  in  the 

chapter,   in  the  order  in  which  they  occur,   and 

VOL.  ir.  E  £  then 


4ia  .       N^    O    T    E    S. 

then  to  examine,  by  way  of  experiment,  wheilier 
they  are  any  way  reducible  to  twelve. 

i.-wn;y;^ayEz  t»  tbXsj,  Ta  owTVi, — I.e.  The  end  of  Poetry  is  better 

answered,  &c. 
2. — x«Ta  ovfji&eB^^     .     -     -     -    Tlie  fault  is  vuidental. 
3. — oja  5^Ei,  (or,  ^iXTiov)       -     -    -     It  is  what  is  best,  or  what 

should  be. 
4: — oux  ^offt,  (or,  wa  ^oxe*)  -    -    -     It  is  according  to  general 

opinioji, 
5. — Ota  h,  h  env  (or,  irwj  ilxtv,  or,  aX>i5ii)  -     -     -     -     to  truth. 

[6. — cTKTfTwv — Eij  Tov  w^axTovra,  ^foj  ov,  ote,  &c.]  -  [Consider  c»r- 

cumstances.'l 
-r. — rx«TT»i     ------       Defend,  by  the  foreign  sense 

of  the  word. 
8. — MBTccpo^a       ..------by  Metaphor. 

q. — xara  H^oa-u^iav    -------by  Accent. 

10. — Atai^sffu   ---------by  Punctuation, 

11. — Aft^i^oxwf hy  Ambiguity. 

12. — xara  TO  id®- 1715  Xflcajf    -----     hy  Customary  speech, 

13. — noj'ax«5  ow  c^»iv£t£ — or,  «a6'  ofAawfjiiav      by  the  different  senset 

of  a  ti'orc^. 
[14. — ^rAfl«/*6j»(^  Xz/erif]    -------    [Glaucous  answer.] 

[i^._«V(^^  xoi  cTOfa  TO  £1*®-  7»v£<rfi»]  [Probable,  that  many  things 

should  happen  improbably.] 
[16. — Ov  TO  auTOy  h  i  v^e;  ro  aino,  &c.]  [Tlie  same  thing  is  not  spo- 
ken of,  or,  not  in   the 
same  respect,  &c.] 

Here  are,  then,  16  different  answers.  Of  these, 
it  seems,  upon  tlie  whole,  most  probable,  that  the 
12  not  enclosed  in  brackets,  are  the  12  which 
Aristotle  means.  My  reason  is,  that  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  chapter,  after  laying  down  the  three 
distinct  considerations,  of  the  different  objects  of 
imitation,  the  privileges  of  poetical  language,  and 

tl)e 


NOTES.  419 

ihe  distinction  of  essential  and  incidental  faults, 
he  immediately,  and  explicitly,  refers  to  those 
three   principles,  as  sources  of  all  the  anmers. 

nn  in  rx  iiriTtfxnfAXTx EK  TOTTflN  iVktxo- 

*HVTx  ATEIN.  Now  it  will  be  found,  I  believe, 
that  the  1 2  answers  above  mentioned  are  drawn 
from  tliose  sources,  and  that  the  four  remainin<T 
answers  are  not 

But  why  these  four,  which  evidently  are  pro- 
posed as  answers,  and  seem  to  be  disti?2Ct  answers, 
were  not  admitted  in  the  concluding  enumeration, 
it  may  not  be  easy  to  shew.  Perhaps,  Aristotle 
reckoned  only  as  one  solution,  the  two  which  he  ' 
assigns  to  the  same  objection,  with  an  >?,  or  arw?  rt 
Hxi,  &c.  This  would  throw  out  N°'  14,  and  15, 
which  seem,  indeed,  to  be  mentioned  only  as  a 
sort  of  secondary  or  subsidiary  answers.  As  to 
N*'  6,  and  1 6,  he  might  consider  them  as  one ; 
both  of  them,  in  fact,  saying  the  same  thing,  and 
nearly  in  the  same  words — i.  e.  "  circmnstances 
"  must  be  considered."  Still  however,  takint^ 
these  together  as  one  answer,  that  answer  will  be 
supernumerary ;  and  how  it  is  fairly  to  be  got  rid 
of,  it  is  difficult  to  see  :  the  more  difficult,  because 
it  is  the  only  XMtrK;  furnished  by  the  whole  chapter 
to  the  objection  of  immoral  tendency,  (/3Aaj3ifa,) 
upon  which  so  great  stress  is  laid. 

All  that  seems  tolerably  clear  is,  that  the  1 2 
answers  intended  in  the  recapitulation  are  those 
1 2,  which  are  deducible  from  the  three  principles 

E  E  2  laid 


410  NOTE    S. 

laid  down  at  the  openins:  of  the  cliapter.  In  this 
•idea,  which  I  had  formed  before  I  consulted  any 
commentator,  I  was  glad  to  find  myself  supported 
by  Gouhton,  in  his  accurate  analysis ;  where  he 
makes  the  i  2  answers  to  be  those  here  assigned, 
and  draws  them  from  tlie  three  sources  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  chapter :  viz.  three  from  the  Jirst 
source,  (N°*  3,  4,  5,)— <*^^'^^^  ^^^"^  ^^^^  second— 
•the  diction,  (N°'  7,  8,  9,  10,  11,  12,  13,)— and 
two  from  the  third  souvcCy  (N°*  1,  and  2.) 

KOTE  263. 
P.  203.     If    that    \vhicii    ib   tiik    least 

VULGAR  OR  POPULAR  BE  THE  BEST — . 

- — Hrrov  ^OPTIKH. — Tiie  word  ^o^T»xoy  is  used 
in  a  number  of  different,  and  sometimes  nicely 
discriminated,  senses,  which  cannot,  all  of  them, 
be  expressed  by  any  single  word  in  our  language. 
Sometimes,  for  example,  it  is  to  be  rendered  by 
extra-vcigant,   violent,  charged,  outre  \  Sec,  as  in 

the 


*  The  Latin  writers  use  molcstus  In  this  sense;  for 
■whatever  is  violent,  overdone,  laboured,  affected,  &c. 
Thus  Cicero,  in  the  following  elegant  passage  of  his 
Brutus:  "  Volo  enim,  ut  in  scena, sic  etiam  in  foro,  now 
'^  COS  modo  laudari,  qui  celeri  motu  6c  difficili  utantur, 
*'  sed  eos  etiam  quos  statarios  appellaftt,  quorum  sit  ilia 
"  iimplex-,  in  agendo  y  Veritas,  non  Molest  A."  i.e.  ^n 
^c^iwj.  cap.  XXX.  Again  — "  Latine  loqucndi  accu- 
•*  rata,  ct  sine  molestia  diligens,  clegantia :  i,e.  witholit 

'♦  ial>wr 


NOTES.  421 

tiie   following  passage  of  Diog,  Laertius  about 

Bion  : — iiy    h   xoLi    6iaT^ix(^,   xtxi  voKuq    lu  rw  yiAoiw 
^i»(po^r,aon,  ^OPTIKOIS    o^oiJ^oc(rt  kxtk  jm  n^ocyfAccruv 

>:f^/Af^'(^^ — i.e.  exti^crcagant, e.vaggerated,  outres, 
as  Bayle  has  well  explained  it,  art  Bion,  note  [b], 
where  he  gives  an  instance  of  this  extiavagance 
of  expression  in  that  philosopher,  from  Plutarch, 
-who  calls  it  C>0PTIKI1TEP0N  ^ 

Sometimes,  applied  to  persons,  it  means  trou- 
blesome, tiresome,  &c.  as  in  iElian  — -roAu?  nV 
AaAwv,  x«»  fcToxfi  $OPTIK02.  Far.  Bist.XlL  13.— 
Sometimes,  insolent,  overbearing,  &c.  as,  in  the 
same  writer,  it  is  said  of  a  famous  courtesan,— 'H 
ii  iu  rnEPH^ANOI  K«*  j£iFwf  TOPTIKH.  XII.  63". 
— Sometimes,  again,  and  that  very  frequently,  it 
is  used  as  synonymous  with  dyiKtvh^^,  j3amu(r(^, 
popular,  laic,  vulgar,  &c.  as  opposed  to  what  is 
liberal,  refined,  delicate,  genteel,  &c.     Thus  PIu- 

tarch — ai/fAfuGe^aj  xo/xijyj  xat  ^OPTIKAS— (pa>Ta(riaf. 

p.  216,  ed,  H.  S.     And  Plato— 0  f  »AoTi^^ 

"^""^^ 

"^  labour  or  affectation.**  cap.  xxxviii.— Catullus,  too,  of 
an  affected  grin ; 

-     -     -     -     •     ilbj,  quam  videtis 
Turpe  incederc,  mimice  ac  moleste 
Ridentem,  catuli  ore  Gallicani. 
»»  IV.  52. 

*=  EfwTix.  p.  1 37 1,  cd.  H.  St.  See  also  xhtTimon  of 
Lucian,  ed.  Bent  p.  59.— »a  aoi  O^OPTIKIIS  JioXEyw/^oi-^ 
Le,  (as  the  context  shews,)  with  the  extravagance  of  Tra^ 
gic  rant. 

Jul.  Poll.  VI.  5.  ^         /-  '^ 

i:E3 


4 


422  NOTES, 

Tfiv  [Atv  ecTd  Twv  ;^u/x«Twv  fl^ovfiK  <fOPTIKHN  Tjvfld 
liyfiTa* — "  The  ambitious  man  looks  upon  gain 
"  as  a  vtdgar  sort  of  pleasure,"  De  Rep,  IX^ 
p.  254,  ed.  AIass,-^i\i\.  Pollux  describes  a  species 
of  dance  called  MoOwv,  as,  ^OPTIKON  ofx*"/**  '**• 
vauTtxov — "  a  vulgar  and  sailor'Uke  dance;"  the 
hornpipe^  I  suppose,  of  the  Greeks  ^  And  thus 
Athenaeus,  where  he  mentions,  from  Herodotus, 
the  curious  story  of  Agarista,  (the  daughter  of 
Clisthenes,  king  of  Sicyon,)  and  her  suitors,  says, 

that  Clisthenes  rejected  HippocUdes^  \$m 4>OP^ 

TIKI22  opx^a-xiAivov :  because  he  did  not  dafice  like 
a  gentleman^ :  a  charge,  which,  according  to  He- 
rodotus, seems  indeed  to  have  been  pretty  well 
founded ;  for  he  tells  us,  that  Hippoclides  got  upon 
^  table  and  danced  upon  his  kead^, — But  let  us 
return  to  Aristotle.  This  last  sense  of  the  word 
f  flpTixov  appears  to  me  clearly  to  be  tliat,  in  which 
it  is  here  used  by  him.  I  cannot  think,  that  by 
f  ppTixn,  he  intended  to  express,  as  Dacier,  and  the 
commentators  before  him,  explain  it,  the  trouble 
and  eapefuce  of  theatrical  exhibition — the  number 
of  things  wanted — actors,  scenes,  dresses,  mu' 
sic,  &c  \     Of  all  the  commentators  I  liave  seen, 

M.  Batteujc 

'  And  see  Suidas,  v.  Mofla;v.  '  P.  628. 

*  —  Trjy  xf^oXw  tpiia-oi  etti  tw  r^avt^avy  rot;  £XEAEX( 
EXEIPONOMH2E.  Herod,  VI.  p.  238.  ed,  H.  St, 

**  '*  ^TTov  ^o^uctf — i.e*  qua  paucioribus  eget  adjumentis 
•^  extrinsecus  sumptis"  &c.  RobortelU, — '*  Men  gravosoy* 
j^  i\\z  same  sense^  Castelvftro,-^^'  Manco  carca  e  mancq 

<*  pisogrtBsa 


NOTES.  423 

M.  Batteux  alone  gives,  in  a  short  note,  what  I 
tliink  the  true  meaning  of  the  word  in  this  place : — 
"  0o^T*x©»,  grossier,  digne  des  mercenaires.  Aris- 
"  tote.  Politic.  VIH.  c.  6.  oppose  le  spectateur 
■*  mercenaire  &  ignorant,  ^ojtixJ^,  au  spectateur 
"  honnete ;  &  le  plaisir  grossier,  nVovti  ^o^xixtj,  les 
'*  danses  grossieres,  x*v)j(r«f  ^o^Tix«T£^af,  au  plaisir 
"  delicat,  aux  danses  honnetes." 

Aristotle  himself  will  here  be  his  best  com- 
mentator, in  the  passages  to  which  M.  Batteux 
refers. 

Some  sorts  of  rhythm^  he  says,  ^OPTIKXITE- 
PAZ  ix^fTi  rot;  xtk»)fl-£K,  (violent  and  vulgar,)  o«  ^i, 
EAETeEPinTEPAS  '.  Again,  in  the  next  chapter, 
relative  to  the  musical  education  of  youtli,  he 
speaks  of  the  pleasure  of  a  popular  musical  au- 
dience, as  a  vulgar^  illiberal  sort  of  pleasure. 
"  The  performer  there/*  he  says,  "  aims  only  at 
the  pleasure  of  the  hearers,"  xai  rauTHf  ^OPTl- 
KHI*  ^lOTTi^  «  TnN  EAEr0EPX2N  x^iuofxtv  tlvoa  mv 
i^yxciotify  ("  such  performance  does  not  become  a 

gentleman^,'')  dwoc  0HTIKaTEPAN-  (the  play- 


4( 


incr 


"  bisognosa  d*aiutoJ'*  Piccol. — Beni  follows  Robortelli. 
Victorius  renders—**  importuna  et  molesta,'^  but  enters 
into  no  particular  explanation.  Dacier  ^-^^^  la  moins 
"  chargee,  &  celle  qui  dcmande  le  moins  d^aide  ^  de 
•*  sec  our 5^^^ 

«  Dc  Rep.  VIII.  5.  p.  455,  E. 

^  In  discussing,  however,  the  question,  whether  boys 
should  learn  Music  practically,  and  play  or  sing  them- 

E  £  4  selves. 


is 


414  NOTES. 

iiig  of  a   man   who   is  paid  for   playing:)    xm 

BANAT20TZ  cTtj    (mechamcs)    (ru/xj3aiv«t  y»yj/£fl-9«t* 

yx^   0EATH2,    OOPTIK02   cJv,  ^Erapa^Aiiy  a'a,0£  tijw 

^«o-<x>iv— .  /foV/.  p.  457,  8.— In  the  next  chapter 
is  the  following  passage,  still  more  directly  to  our 
present  purpose,  in  which  he  expressly  distin- 
guishes, as  here,  the  two  sorts  of  spectators,  or 
hearers:-— OfiaTyi?  ^^rrt^,  0  fxiy  EAETeEPOI  x«» 
nEnAIAEYMENOZ,  0  ^i  ^OPTIKOI,  ix  pMocv<rcop, 
xon  ^mruu,  xat  aXXcju  romruv,  (TMyKn^iyi^.  p,  450,  A'. 

The  word  occurs  frequently  in  other  parts  of 
Aristotle's  writings,  and  seems  generally,  if  not 
always,  to  be  used  in  the  same  sense  "*• 

By  (po^Tixrj,  then,  applied  to  Tragedy,  I  think  it 
clear,  that  he  means  only— calculated  for  tpo^nxoi 

m 

spectators ; 

selves,  Aristotle  determines,  that  they  shouldy  and  gives 
this  reason,  that  "  it  is  a  thing  impossible,  or,  at  least, 
<'  very  difficult,  for  those,  who  do  not  actually  practise  an 
^'  art,  to  be  good  judges  of  it."  /).456.— It  might  be  SQ 
in  those  days.  Adodern  connoisseurs,  both  in  Music  and 
Painting,  find  no  such  difficulty. 

*  So  Plutarch,  in  the  beginning  of  his  Comparison  of 
Aristophanes  and  Menander,  p.  1567,  ed,  H.  S.— To  4>0P- 
TIKON,  ^«rjv,  b  >sayoi;,  Kai  9viMBXut0Vy  km  BANATION,  ty^ 
inv  A§i(rTO(pav£tf  Mivcrj^^u  ^f  i^ofxa;.  Kcu  ya^,  0  (jisv  AIIAI- 
AETT02   xai    lAfHTHS  vis  exEiv©-  t^ec   aMcKsrai,  0  h 

Ethic,  hicom.  IV.  8. — &0}fxoXoxoi — xai  ^o^woi.     And 
I.  5,  where  he  says,  that,  'Ol  HOAAOI  nai  <^Q?TIKD.^ 

TATOJ,  ht\([i\\G  summum  honumioh^pkasure^  See  also 
fihet,  IIJ,  T,  p.  584,  A. 


NOTES.  425 

spectators ;  adapted  to  the  entertainment  oi  popu- 
lar audiences" — to  the  taste,  as  we  commonly 
express  it,  of  the  upper  gallery,  as  opposed  to  the 
refined  and  cultivated  taste  of  men  of  reading 
and  reflection. 

As  far  as  1  can  judge,  from  a  comparison  of  the 
different  senses  of  the  word  with  its  etymology ", 
the  common  idea,  which  runs  through  and  con- 
nects  them  all,  is  that  of  excess,  or,  perhaps, 
more  exactly,  of  offensive,  disgusting,  or  burden-^ 
some,  by  excess,  of  some  kind  or  other. 

NOTE  264. 

P.  203.       As    IF    THE     AUDIENCE,     WITHOUT 
THE    AID    OF    ACTION,    &C. 

*Xlf  yap   a)c  aiV9<a!j/ojU£>wi/,  dv  fxri  ATTOS  IIPO20Hi, 

TToXXny  xiVTiG-iv  xivavTon, — This  wound  has  been 
sufficiently  probed.  When  I  found,  that  the 
"  medica  manus''  of  Mr.  Toup  had  been  tried 
upon  it,  I  looked,  at  least,  for  the  "  salubres 
*'  Ambrosias  succos,  et  odoriferam  panaceam%" 
if  not  for  the  precious  Dictamnus,  that  would 
entirely  heal  it.  He  proposed  to  read — dv  /xa 
ATA02  nPOZHt  \     I  should  be  very  sorry  to  do 

•  ^^y 

"  Mr.  Pope,  probaMy  without  thinking  of  Aristotle, 
has  almost  translated  him,  where,  in  his  preface  tp 
Shakspearc,  he  says — **  It  must  be  allowed,  that  stage^ 
''  poetry,  of  all  others,  is  more  particularly  levelled  tq 
^'  please  the  populace,''^ 

^  From  0OPTO2— o;.w.  »  Jlh.  XII.  41 1. 

>  §?e  Mr,  Winstauley's  notc,|>.  309  of  his  CiliiiqiV 


426  NOTES. 

any  injustice  to  the  emendation  of  so  masterly  a 
Greek  scholar  -,  but  I  am  obliged  to  confess,  that 
I  do  not  understand  it.  "  The  imitators  have 
*'  recourse  to  every  kind  of  motion,  just  as  if  the 
**  audience  were  not  able  to  understand,  (or,  to 
"  hear)  them,  without  the  addition  or  accompani* 
**  ment  of  djiuttr  How  any  sense  can  be  made 
of  this,  or  of  any  other  fair  version  of  the  passage, 
so  corrected,  I  cannot  discover.  The  emendation, 
surely,  requires  to  be  explained,  at  least ;  and  if 
Mr.  Toup  gave  any  explanation  in  his  letter  to 
Mr.  Winstanley,  it  is  to  be  wished,  that  the 
learned  editor  had  communicated  it  to  the  public 
in  his  note. 

It  is  some  comfort,  however,  that  the  general 
weaning  of  the  passage  seems  liable  to  little  or  no 
difficulty ;  and,  accordingly,  in  tliat,  all  the  com- 
mentators, I  think,  are  agreed,  however  widely 
they  may  differ  as  to  the  reading. 

NOTE    265. 

P.  203.     Like  bad  flute^players,  who 

WHIRL  THEMSELVES  ROUND,  WHEN  THEY 
VOULD  IMITATE  THE  MOTION  OF  THE  DIS,» 
CUS . 

This  is  one  of  those  antique  curiosities,  which 
we  stare  at,  without  knowing  very  well  what  to 
make  of  it. — 'Ay  AI2K0N  ^£»j  ju»/Af»(r9at.  Wt  should 
think  it  very  strange,  if  we  were  told  of  a  flute- 
player  having  occasion  to  imitate  a  quoit.  But  we 
^  aro 


NOTES.  42y.. 

are  not  to  understand  tliis  of  a  mere  instrumental 
solo,  but  of  a  performer  accompanyincr  w(yrds 
sung  by  a  Chorus,  (as  appears  from  the  mention 
of  the  CoryphceusJ  and  endeavouring,  in  an  absurd 
manner,  to  express  them.  The  antient  AuA»jr»!f,  or 
Tibicen,  was  not,  it  seems,  a  mere  sedentary  per- 
former, like  those  of  a  modern  orchestra.  He 
accompanied  the  Cliorus  with  his  person,  as  well 
as  with  his  instrument,  and  seems  to  have  paraded 
about  tliie  stage,  in  a  pompous  dress ;  to  h^ve  made 
»  part  of  the  Oj/»f,  or  sheu\  and  to  have  joined  in 
all  the  turns,  and  returns,  and  various  evolutions, 
of  the  choral  dance.  Hence  the  description  of 
Horace : 

Sic  priscae  motumque  et  luxuriam  addidit  aiti 
Tibicen,  traxitque  vacvs per pu/pi fa  vestcm. 

A.  P.  214. 
Lucian,  in  his  Harmonides,  describing  the  requi- 
sites of  a  good  AuAnTUf,  mentions,  among  the  rest, 

^a»  BAINEIN  ly  /uG^w*. — The  great  masters,  no 
doubt,  respected  themselves,  and  confined  their 
motion  to  the  dignity  of  a  sort  of  rhythmic  strut. 
But  Aristotle,  here,  is  describing  the  tricks  of  the 
fauAoi  or  f pflTixot  performers.  Such  a  performer 
772/^/?/  have  occasion,  or  rather  take  occasion,  to 
imitate  the  whirling  or  rollii^  of  a  disc,  if  the  sub^ 
ject,  for  example,  of  the  choral  song  chanced  to  be 
the  story  of  Apollo  and  Hyacinthus;  which  i^ 
naentioned  by  I^ucian  in  £t  long  list  of  fabulous 

§ubjects^ 

•      „  ?  P,  638,  r^,  5^;;, 


V     4 


428  NOTES. 

subjects,  enumerated  as  a  part  of  the  knowledge 
requisite  to  an  accomplished  pantomimic  dancer ^ 
Or,  the  subject  might  be  taken  from  Homer, 
Od.^,  186,  &c. 

KuXiofAivoi.  Dacier,  in  his  note,  translates  this, 
"  rolling  themselves  tipon  the  ground^  This 
would  be  (po^riycov  indeed.  Yet  in  this  idea  he 
follows  Victorius ;  who  enters  into  a  discussion,  of 
some  length,  to  prove  that  xuXi o/aivo*  can  mean 
nothing  but  i^oliws:  on  the  i^rouud.  Nor  will  he 
allow  the  difficulty  of  doing  this  while  they  rrere 
playing  to  be  a  sufficient  objection.  Certainly,  the 
usual  and  proper  sense  of  the  word  is  on  his  side. 
But  it  was  natural  enough,  surely,  to  apply  to  the 
motion  imitating,  the  term  proper  to  the  motion 
imitated. 

^  Dc  Salt,  p.  933.  ed.  Ben. — A  modern  dancer — per- 
haps even  A^Jl.  Vcstris  himself — would  stare  at  the  account 
which  Luclan  gives  in  that  treatise,  of  the  accomplish- 
ments necessary  to  make  a  perfect  dancer,  '*  He  must 
not  only  understand  music,  but  poetry,  geometry,  and 
above  ?i\\^  philosophy ^  natural  mid  moral  \  rhetoric,  paint- 
**  ing,  sculpture ;  especially,  he  must  have  an  excellent 
**  memory,  and  have  all  history  at  his  fingers  ends,  from 
**  the  creation  of  the  world  down  to  Cleopatra,'*  &c. 
Logic,  indeed,  Lucia n  confesses,  is  not  absolutely  neces- 
sary. But  so  great,  he  says,  must  be  his  knowledge,  that, 
'*  like  Homer'' s  Chulcas,  he  mu^t  know — 

"  -  —  Ta  t'  o'/TXy  IOC  T*  £j7(rO/CX£va,  ^fo  T*  icvTa  !'* 

All  this  Lucian  professes  to  prove;  but,  as  might  well  be 
expected,  some  of  his  assertions  are  very  lauicly  made 
i)4it,  others    slurred   ovcr^   or   ciuirely  neglected.     The 

treatise. 


,V.    O    T    E    S. 


429 


NOTE    266, 

*  <    ■  ^ 

P.  203.  AXD  PULL  THE  CoRYPHiEUS  WHEIT 
SCYLLA    IS    THE    SUBJECT. 

*Eax(ji/t£?  toi/  Ko^u^aiov. — To  imitate  Scyllay — > 
"  naves  in  saxa  trahentem,''  as  Virgil  has  expressed 
it  \  But  it  is  not  easy  to  see,  how  the  performer, 
at  least  uliile  he  was  playing,  could  well  spare 
a  hand  for  this  operation.— This  was  even  worse 
than  wiiat  we  call  humouring  a.  ciilch;  when,  for 
instance,  a  singer  who  is  performing  Purcells 
"  Fie,  nay  prithee,  .M;^'— thinks  it  necessaj'y  to 
collar  his  neighbour. 

NOTE   267, 

P.  204.  The  TRAGIC  IxMITATION,  WHEN- 
ENTIRE. 

'H  *OAH  Tt)(^vn.  Heinsius  proposed,  n  AAAH 
rtx^n.  But  I  believe  the  established  reading  to  be 
right.  The  whole  art —i.e.  Tragedy,  as  j^epre- 
sen  ted;  with  all  its  const  it  ue7it  parts,  and,  as  it 
was  said  before,  avxi^Toc  fjufxaixufn.  For  it  might, 
as  Aristotle  presently  observes,  be  read,  or  recited, 
like  an  Epic  Poem ;  and,  in  that  view,  the  com- 
parison here  made  would  not  hold. 

Tg;^»/?i  — 

treatise,  however,  is,  upon  the  whole,  a  curious  piece ; 
and,  though  far  from  sufficient  to  give  a  clear  and  com- 
plete idea  of  the  pantomimic  dance  of  the  anticnts,  yet  ic 
affords  more  information  about  it,  than  is  to  be  found, 
I  believe,  any  where  else. 

-T— ■ 

*  j£n.  111.  425. 


1^5^  NOTES. 

Tt^yri — L  e,  the  Tragic  art :  for  so  he  uses  the 
word,  cap.  i.  not  for  the  whole  Poetic  art,  but  for 
It  single  branch  of  it : — h  raig  iI^r/Awaif  TEXNAI2 — 
Le,  Epic  Poetry,  Tragedy,  Comedy,  &c.  So  too 
mt  the  end  of  that  chapter:  rxt  iiotpo^u^  TXlM 
TEXNHN.  And,  again,  at  the  end  of  this  chapter, 
(as  I  understand  the  passage,)  rm  TEXNHX  ipyw. 
See  NOTE  277. 

* 

NOTE    268. 

P.     204.        To     HEARERS     OF      THE     BETTER 
10  RT — . 

— Qtxra^  ETTUixiK  :  to  which  he  opposes  ^«uA«r. 
The  word  fV»£iX£if  seems  rightly  explained  here  by 
Dacier — "  ks  honnites  gens ;  c  est  a  dire,  les  gens 
•*  qui  ont  cu  une  meilleure  education."  The  pas- 
sage, which  he  quotes  from  Plato,  is  much  to  the 
purpose  of  this  chapter.  Suyp^wpw  h  royt  ro^nrov 
Kxt  lyu  roig  'jroXXoi^,  hiy  rnv  juscixuv  i^ovv  xpivitr^at  * 
fi,n  fxivroi  ruv  ivirv^oyruv '  aXXos  fr^tioy  Ixuvrtv  tlvxi 
fAxtrav  xaAXimv,  nVi?  TOTS  BEATIITOTS,  x«i 
IKANHS  UEnAmErUENOrX  TE^fTu.—De  Leg,  11. 
p^  658. 

Aristotle  uses  iViiixnc  in  the  same  sense,  Etfi. 
Nicom,  IV.  8,  p.  186,  ed.  IVilk. — rotauTjt  Xtyny 
nai    AKHSiy,    oift  TU  EniEIKEI     KAI    EAETeEPAi 


NOTES. 


43 « 


NOTE    269. 

P.  204.  And  in  singing — . 
Koci  ^ixiopra.  There  seems  great  reason  to 
suspect  this  word.  For,  what  is  the  force  of  the 
preposition  here  ?  Some  commentators,  without 
disputing  the  reading,  neglect  the  preposition  en- 
tirely, and  render  the  word  as  if  it  were  the  simple 
participle,  cl^oyra.  Others  understand,  singing 
throughout:  "  qui  continenter  canit."  Goulst. 
But  the  proper  sense  of  «^*a<ri«v,  would,  I  think, 
be— to  sing  dissonant li/— to  sing  out  of  tune,— as, 
AlA(p<ayuy.  And  SO  the  word  is  actually  used  in 
the  treatise  Utpi  Ko(r/x»,  in  Aristotle's  works,  and 
opposed  to  ITNxioy,  as  AlA<puyny  is  to  XTM^w- 
Hiy: — cvfMppofAtyeyy     xoei    ^ia^i^ofAiyoy '    a-vyocioy,     xxt 

AIAiAON  *.  "  The  agreeing,  and  the  disagreeing, 
*'  the  consonant,  and  the  disso7iant  ^"  But  as  the 
word  cannot  here  be  admitted,  in  that  which  ap- 
pears  to  be  its  only  proper  and  warrantable  sense, 
1  suspect,  it  might,  originally,  have  been  only 
ahyrx.  Considering  how  frequently  A  and  A  were 
confounded  by  transcribers,  KAI  AIAONTA  micrht 
easily  be  blundered  into  KAI  AIAIAONTA.  One 
MS.  reading  is  iixM$oyrx  ;  where  the  AI,  plainly 
enough,  arose  from  the  AI. 

The  commentators  understand  from  this  pas- 
sage,  that  there  were  two  sorts  of  rhapsodists  ; 

. -«_«____ ^"^' 

*  Tom  A,  p.  609.      \  Harris.  Philos.  Jnang.p.^j, 


431  .       NOTES, 

one,  of  those  who  7rci  fed  Epic  Poetry,  and  anothet'^ 
of  those  uho  sang  it.  Whether  tliis  can  be  proved 
from  other  passages  of  autient  authors,  I  know 
not.  From  this,  it  certainly  cannot.  Aristotle 
says,  KAI  fx^^uSsvrx — KAI  $iOL^ouToc\  Whatever 
the  ^iolSoqu  was,  he  is  here  clearly  distinguished  from 
the  paif/wcTwv — the  rhapsodist. 

That  the  rhapsodists  did  not,  in  the  strict  and 
musical  sense,  at  least,  of  the  word,  shig  the  verses 
of  Homer,  but  recited  or  declaimed  them  only,  we 
may  pretty  safely  infer,  from  what  is  expressly 
said  of  Epic  Poetry  at  the  beginning  of  tliis  work- 
that  "  it  imitates  by  ztvrds  only,''  without  melody 
and  rhvthm — i.e.  without  music.  This,  indeed, 
will  not  prove  that  Epic  Poetry  was  never  sung, 
any  more  than  what  was  said  of  Tragedy— that 
it  imitates  by  xvords  and  rnusic — will  prove  that  it 
was  never  recited,  or  read.  Yet  the  least,  I  think, 
that  can  be  inferred  from  it,  is,  that  Epic  Poetry 
was,  in  general,  and  for  the  most  part,  recited  or 
declaimed  only ;  and,  consequently,  that  the  rim})' 
sodists,  properly  so  called,  being  the  established 

performa^s 

«  This  passage  is  much  mistaken  by  M.  Batteux,  who 
renders  it,    "  Qu'on  peut  faire  cies  gestes  en   recitant 

*'  I'Epopee, qu'on  peut  mime  chanter ,*  &c.   Faire  des 

gestes,  comes  far  short  of  nEPlEPrAZEI0AI  aijueioig. 
The  KM  which  precedes  the  participle,  pa^uhvTUy  is 
omitted  :  and  to  produce  his  sense  of  ^ix^mra~qu*on  peut 
mime  chanter,  the  Greek  should  be — in  Tts^u^ya^taQM  -  -  - 
im  S-iflcAElN. 


NOTES.  433 

perfonners  of  Epic  Poetry,  as  the  actors  ^  were  of 
Tragic,  performed  it  always  in  that  manner; 
without  singing,  any  farther,  than  as  the  tones  of 
loud  and  sustained  declamation  approach  more 
nearly  to  singing  than  those  of  common  reading. 
The  earliest  Lyric  Poet-Musicians,  indeed,  as  we 
learn  from  Plutarch  and  Athenaeus,  used  to  sincr 
even  the  hexameters  of  Horner  and  Hesiod,  as  well 
as  their  own,  to  the  lyre.  But  they,  plainly,  speak 
of  this,  as  of  an  antient  practice : — rov  Te^ttuv^oov, 

KI0APIlAIKnN  TTOinrnv  ovra,  vo[jt,uv,  [hym?is,^  xccrx 
vQl^ov  Ixarov,  TOIS  EIIE2:r,  to»?  lauT»,  xai  TOIi: 
•OVIHPOT,  MEAH  Tn^mhi^TX,  AiAEIN  h  rotg  dyutny, 

Plut,   Dial,  de  Mas,  p.  2074,  ed.  //.  St.     And 
afterwards — or»  h  o»  xtGa^wtTixoi   yoii.(n^  'oi  IIAAAI 
If  EnnN  (Tunr^vT*,  Tijuo0£©^  £(^»jA«r£,  &c.  p.  2075. 
So,  too,  Athenaeus : — **  Chamceleo7i,  in  his  book 

about  Stesichorus,  x«t  f^iKuMi^vxi  ^»i(ri,  a  i^ovov  rx 
'OfAfi^u,   xWx  Kxi   'Htf-jo^tf,    xa*    A^;^iX«;^8,  &c.    KAI 

fj.tX(>}Mft¥ati — "  were  even  sung."  p.  620. 

It  is  not,  however,  at  all  improbable,  that  Ho- 
mer might  be  sometimes  sung,  in  Aristotle's  time, 
and  that  this  Mnasitheus,  (of  whom  nothing  is 
known,)  might  be  a  performer  in  this  way.  But, 
that  tliis  was  a  distinct  thing  from  pa\J/w(^ta  seems 

pretty  cleSr. 

^ — • — — „      , 

^  Va^uhi,  and  imoK^nai,  are  continually  jv-)incd  to- 
gether. See  Plato,  in  that  entertaining  dialogue,  the  lo, 
torn,  I.  p,  532,  D.  535,  E.  and  in  a  great  many  other 
places. 


VOL.  ir. 


F  F 


434 


NOTES. 


NOTE    270, 

P.  205.  Whose  gestures  resemble  those 

OF    IMMODEST    WOMEN. 

The  passage  of  Aulus  Gellius,  to  which  I  re- 
ferred in  my  note  on  the  translation,  as  a  story, 
both  curious  in  itself,  and  confirming  what  was 
there  advanced,  is  this.    "  Ilistrio  in  terr^  Graecia 
fuit  fam4  celebri :  qui,  gestus  et  vocis  claritudlne 
&  venr^tate,  caeteris  antestabat.     Noinen  fuisse 
aiunt  PoLUM.     Tragcjedias  poetarum  nobiliuni 
scitfe    atque    asseverate    actitavit.     Is    Polus 
"  umch  amatum  filium  mortc  amisit.  Eum  luctum 
quum  satis  visus  est  eluxisse,  rediit  ad  quaestum 
artis.     In  eo  tempore  Athenis  Elcctram  So- 
phoclis    acturus,    gestare    urnani    quasi   cum 
Orestis  ossibus  debebat.     Ita  compositum  fa- 
bulae  argumentum  est,  ut,  veluti  fratris  reliquias 
ferens  Electra,  comploret  commisereturque  in- 
"  teritum  ejus,  qui  per  vim  extinctus  existimatur. 
Igitur  Polus,  lugubri  habitu  Electrae  indutus, 
ossa  atque  umam  h,  sepulchro  tuUt  fihi ;  8c,  quasi 
Orestis  amplexus,  opplevit  omnia,  non  simula- 
chris  neque  imitamentis,  sed  luctu  atque  lamentis 
"  veris  &  spirantibus.     Itaque,  quum  agi  fabula 
"  videretur,  dolor  actitatus  est."  A.  GelLVIL  5. 


<i 


a 


a 


(( 


^: 


n 


a 


a 


it 


i< 


it 


it 


a 


it 


NOTES. 


435 


NOTE    271. 

P.  205.     The  music  and  the  decoration, 

BY  THE    LATTER    OF  WHICH    THE    ILLUSION    IS 
HEIGHTENED,  &C. 

The  Greek,  here,  in  either  of  the  two  readings 
warranted  by  manuscript  authority,  is  unsatis- 
factory and  suspicious,  and  the  setise,  consequently, 
uncertain.     The  reading  of  the  old  editions  is— 

tf*    »jf  Tocg    i^ovotg    l-mfOLvrvA  hapys^xTx:  which  Vic- 

torius  renders— ''  per  qiumi  voluptates  percipiunt 
"  evident'mhnh : "— ^ ''  through,  or  by  means  of, 
"  xchich,  they  perceive  the  pleasures  most  evidently" 
Nothing  can  well  be  more  harsh,  or  stranf^e  — 
iTirxvToti—they  perceive:  —  TVho?  —  The  spec- 
tators. To  this  mode  of  speaking,  however, 
I  should  not  object ;  because  this  ellipsis,  of  U 
AV0/>«7roi,  is  frequent  in  both  the  Greek  and  Latin 
writers '.  Thus,  in  the  beginning  of  this  chapter, 
x»i/«vT«i.  This  answers  to  that  very  convenient 
idiom,  of  which  the  French  make  so  much  use, 
and  which  we  so  often  find  the  \vant  of— ow 
s  agite — on  apperf  oit,  &c.  ^ 

*  See  Sanct.  Mincrv,  IV.  4,  and  Feriz,  note  39. 

*»  According  to  Menage,  the  Fr.  on,  is  only  a  cor- 
ruption of  homme ;  and  on  dit,  for  example,  was  antiently 
written,  *' /;«ow  dit."  And  thus  the  Italian  writers  use 
wm.  Thus  —  "  quando  mm  se  n'accorge."  Tasso's 
Aminta. — "  Vom  dice."  Petrarch,  Son,  190,  &:c.  And 
thus  the  Germans  use  the  word  man  :  ntan  fa^i—men 
^^y—they  say,  &c.— See  Menage's  Osscrvaz,  sopra 
PAminta, 

y  F  2 


! 


436  NOTES. 

But,  the  verb,  iTrtravra*,  will,  I  apprehend,  by 
no  n::eans  bear  the  sense  here  forced  upon  it,  of 
perceiving  pleasure  *" ;  or  any  sense,  but  that  of 
trnderstaiiding,  or  knoxting.  Were  I,  therefore, 
obliged  to  make  sojne  sense  of  this  reading,  it  would 
be  tliis  : — "  per  quam  [(juee  tjjiciimtur^  voluptates, 
"  mrunt  homines  apertissim^  :*' — **  the  pleasures, 
"  which  are  produced  through  which,  are  clearly 
"  understood — well  known  to  all."  But  this,  I 
confess,  is  v  iolcnt  interpretation ;  and,  in  parti- 
cuhu',  T  doubt  whether  the  word  lyx^yn  is  ever 
used,  by  Aristotle  at  least,  as  merely  synonymous 
to  f  «i/£^ov ;  as  evident  to  reason  or  understanding, 
and  opposed  to  doubtful.  It  always  means,  I 
believe,  evident,  clear,  visible,  to  the  eye  of  ima- 
gination.    Thus,  cap.  xvii. — An  ^f  T«f  ^u6a?  (7u- 

wravat or*  |uaXir«  nPO  OMMATXIN  Tihy.iyQv' 

arw  y^e  *'"  ENAPFEXTATA  'OPXIN,  wo-tti^  HAP' 
ATTOIS  nrNOMENOI  TOIi:  nPATTOMENOIS, 
&c.  These  \\ords  seem  to  furnish  the  best  com- 
mtnt  upon  the  passage  in  (juestion,  and  will 
perhaps  lead  us  to  the  most  reasonable  and  least 
exct ptionable  interpretation  of  it;  for  perfect 
satisfjrtion  is  not,  I  tliink,  to  be  expected,  in  the 
present  condition  of  the  text.  We  ought,  surely, 
at  all  events,  to  adhere  to  the  proper  and  clear 
meanintT  of  the  adverb  ivoc^yirocrx,  as  used  in  the 
passage  just  cited ;  where  the  word  itself,  and  the 

explanatory 


«  p^'icu  himself  admits  this  objcLtion :  "  Verbum  hoc 
{emTanai)  insolens  videtur  in  hoc  significatu." 


NOTES.  437 

explanatory  expressions  which  accompany  it,  afford 
a  pretty  strong  presumption,  that  Aristotle,  here, 
meant  to  express  the  particular  advantage  which 
Tragedy  receives  from  the  oj/i?,  or,  from  actual 
representation*,  as  giving  to  the  imitation  the 
greatest  possible  reality  of  effect,  and  producing 
the  most  perfect  illusion  in  the  spectator.  Yet 
this,  it  must  be  owned,  is  very  obscurely  expressed, 
if  it  be  expressed,  by  the  Greek  ;  which,  according 
to  the  best  reading,  that  of  Victorius,  and  of  many 
MSS  ^,  will  stand  thus  :  xa*  et*,  J  /x<x^ov  /otf^^  mv 
fAH(rix.f\v  xai  TUk  o}i/i¥  £;^f»,  cTi'  1!?  *AI  'HAONAI  2TNI2- 
TANTAI  Ivoc^yss-ocrx :  that  is,  according  to  the  only 
sense  which  I  can  find  for  it — "  and  the  decoration, 
"  or  spectacle  ;  by  means  of  which,  the  pleasures 
"  we  receive  from  Tragedy  *,  are  rendered  more 

"  sensible, 

*  So  the  passage  was  understood  by  the  editor  of  the 
Ox.  ed.  without  accents,  1760,  who  refers  3i'  n$  to  the 
o+'f,  and  proposes  this  emendation:  li  ^{,  (sell,  o^zoiq) 
TH2  'HAOMHS  ffwirarrca  TA  iva^yz^ara — *^  per  quam, 
*'  voluptatis  pars  evidentissima  efficitur  ;  quippe  quae  ocuh's 
"  subjecta  est  fidelibus."  But  I  cannot  think  that  Avis 
totle  would  have  written,  li  'HS,  TH2  rjJbvus . 

*  See  Mr.  Winstanley*s  edition. 

*  It  is,  certainly,  most  natural  to  understand  the  plea- 
sures of  the  music  and  decoration  to  be  here  spoken  of. 
And  so  it  is  generally  understood.  But  I  cannot  see  how 
the  words  will  admit  that  sense:  for  the  Greek  docs  not 
say — ''  by  which  the  most  sensible  and  striking  pleasures  are 
produced,*  but,  '^  by  which  the  pleasures  (i.e.  some  other 
*'  pleasures,)    are   produced    in  the    most   sensible  and 

F  F  3  '*  striking 


43S  NOTES. 

"  sensible,  striking,  illusive,"  &c.  But  many  ob- 
jections may,  undoubtedly,  be  made.  For  the  fair 
and  literal  version  would  be  this :  "  by  means  of 
"  uiiich,  the  pleasures  Qrcfortnedy  composed,  con- 
"  structedy  or  constituted^  in  the  clearest  and 
*^  most  visible  manner."  I  give,  here,  what  I  ap- 
prehend to  be  the  only  fair  sense  of  the  verb, 
(rui/tra<r0fln ;  but  it  seems  to  be,  by  no  means,  the 
proper  word  in  this  place,  and  probably  is  not  the 
word  which  Aristotle  wrote.  If  any  one  MS. 
would  offer  me  nAPtravT^et,  I  would  readily  accept 
it.  JElian,  describing  the  effect  of  a  trumpet, 
sounding  suddenly,  at  the  instant  when  a  fanjous 
painting  was  exhibited,  of  a  warrior  in  the  act  of 
rushing  to  the  battle,   says — a/xa  -rt  uu  to  /x£A(^ 

xoci  0   fpxriuTnt  ipXiTTsrOy  ra  /xiXaj  ENAPFESTEPAN 
Till/  ^avTao-iay  t«  Ix^on^ayT^*  it*  xa»  fj.xXXov  IIAPAS- 

TH2ANT02  :  L  e.  *'  presenting  to  the  imagination 

"  a  still  more  lively  and  striking  image  *'."     But 

again — at   iJJoyat,  is  not  what  one  would  expect 

here.     To  speak,  indeed,  of  terror  and  pity^  as 

the  pleasures  of  Tragedy,  is  perfectly  agreeable, 

both  to  the  doctrine,  and  to  the  language,  of  the 

author, 

*'  striking  way*^ — iva^craT*.    To  express  the  other  sense, 
Aristode  would  probably  have  written^  fysfysraTo* : — li  hi 

*■  Y\ci.'~corifiantur^^oagmentantur,  And,  indeed,  in 
tliis  sense,  and  no  other,  is  the  verb  (TvmadQai  used 
throughout  the  treatise. 

«  Vm}\  Hisi,  II.  44. 


NOTES.  439 

author,  throughout  '*.  But,  it  is  not,  properly,  the 
pleasure — it  is  not  the  terror,  or  the  pity — that  is 
rendered  more  htt^Eg ;  but  thai  pleasure  is  heigh- 
tened by  the  action  being  rendered  so. 

Upon  the  whole,  however,  I  see  no  other  mean- 
ing that  can  be  obtained  from  the  words,  without 
still  greater  violence  and  improbability  of  inter- 
pretation. Dacier,  Batteux,  and  Goulston,  make 
the  assertion — a*  ii^oi/a»,  &c.  relate  to  both  music 
and  decoration.  But  it  is,  surely,  quite  unwar- 
rantable to  give  to — Jt'  *HS,  the  sense  of,  J**'  'X2N, 
or  J'*'  'AIN.  Besides  that  the  7nusic,  however 
great  the  pleasure  it  may  afford,  cannot,  I  think,  pro- 
perly be  considered  as  contributing  to  the  Ivoc^ysix, 
or  as  heightening  the  illusion,  of  Tragedy.  Vic- 
torius,  who  read — tji^  /Aso-ixri'  xat  TA2  'O^EIS, 
very  consistently  made  nV  refer  to  ja»(rtx»i  only  :  and 
Castelvetro  very  properly  observes,  that,  **  if  we 

*  read — tuv  i^iv — le  predette  parole  [i.  e.  J*»*  r?  ai 
'  nVova*,  K.T.aX.]  havranno  rispetto'^//«  vista;  e 

*  conteneranno    la  commendatione   della    detta 

*  vista,  per  la  quale  si  constituisca  il  diletto  piu 

*  manifest  ainente — che  non  si  fa  per  le  parole  deW 

*  epopea^  p.  690.  He  appears,  I  think,  to  have 
understood  the  passage  in  the  way  I  have  j)ro- 
posed.  .But  he  mentions  another  reading,  which 
I  have  not  seen  noticed  anywhere  else — ivEp- 
yi^oLTx  *.     This  had  occured  to  me,  formerly,  as  a 

conjecture,. 

•*  See  NOTE   277. 

*  "  Alcuni  testi  Icggono  m^irarar  -  -  - 

F  F4 


I 


440  NOTES. 

conjecture,  before  I  had  seen  Castelvetro's  com- 
mentary. But  it  gives  much  the  same  sense,  and 
would  remove  no  difficulty  with  respect  to  the 
passage  itself-,  though,  as  I  shall  presently  have 
occasion  to  observe,  it  might  suit  better  with  what 
follows. 

NOTE    272. 

p.    205.       It    has    the    advantage    of 

GREATER  CLEARNESS A%  WELL  IN  READ- 
ING, AS   IN    REPRESENTATION. 

It*  tojv  i^yuv, — It  seems  rather  strange,  that,  im- 
iiicdidtely  after  mentioning  the  cmpyi?  of  the  'OiJ/if, 
Aristotle  should  say  —  **  Tlien,  it  has  also  the 
si/a^yif,"  &c.  It  was  this  which  induced  me  to 
suspect,  that  for  Evat^ytrdcra,  in  tlie  preceding  pas- 
sage, we  should  read— i'vEp^^iraTa :  "  By  means  of 
"  which,  [/.  e.  of  the  ovf/i?,]  tlie  pleasures  we  receive 
"  from  Tragedy  (those,  of  terror  aiid  pity  excited 
**  bif  imitation,  as  he  says  cap.  xiv  *.]  are  rendered 
''move  forcible  and  efficacious:'  But  the  objec- 
tion is,  perhaps,  not  of  sufficient  force  to  warrant 
a  departure  from  tlie  established  reading  of  all  the 
manuscripts,  ivoc^yi^drx :  and  we  may,  well  enough, 
understand  tiie  autlior,  as  if  he  had  said — "Then, 
'"  farther,  another  advantage  is,  that  Tragedy  has 
"  this  svccpyi;,  not  only  on  the  stage,  and  on  ac- 
"  count  of  the  'Oj/if,  but  even  in  readi/ig  also." 

That 

*  — TTjv  aTTo  ihiHi  Kai  (po^a  Sia  (jufAmiu^  'HAONHN. 


^\ 


NOTES.  44, 

That  olvayuua-n  is  right,  (not  dmyyta^Krn,)  I 
cannot  entertain  a  doubt.  Nothing  can  be  more 
evidently  nonsensical  than  this  distinction — "  both 
"  in  the  discoveries,  and  in  the  incidents  f  as  if 
a  discovery  were  not  an  incident. 

The  expression,  iVi  twv  l^yuiv,  for,  in  representa- 
tion,  acting,  performance,  &c.  seems  liable  to  no 
difficulty.  Thus,  De  Rep.  VIII.  p.  455,  ^^Xoir 
IX  T«k  EPrUN— from  what  happens  in  the  per- 
formance of  such  music  \  And  see  ibid,  cap,  vi. 
throughout  which,  l^yx  is  repeatedly  used  for 
musical  performance',  particularly,  p.  457, — t« 
^avfAacriot  xat    inpiTTa,   TflN  EPmN,    "  surprising 

"  and  elaborate  performance^* 

NOTE  273. 

P.  206.  Attaining  the  end  of  its  imi- 
tation IN  a  shorter  compass. 

Dryden  says  of  this  passage—*'  It  is  one  reason 
'*  of  Aristotle's,  to  prove  that  Tragedy  is  the  more 
"  noble,  because  it  turns  in  a  shorter  compass ; 
"  the  whole  action  being  circumscribed  within 
"  the  space  ef  four  and  twenty  hours.  He  might 
*'  prove  as  well,  that  a  mushroom  is  to  be  pre- 
*'  ferred  before  a  peach,  because  it  shoots  up  in 
"  the  compass  of  a  night."  &c. 

If  Aristotle  had  said,  that  Tragedy  was  the 
more  noble,  because  a  Poet  could  compose  a 
Tragedy  in  much  less  time  that  an  Epic  Poem, 

the 
^  Sec  Diss.  n.  vol.i.  p.  80. 


44*  NOTES. 

the  simile  would  have  been  justly  applied. 
Uryden  had,  but  just  before,  said,  that  '^  the  effects 
**  of  Tragedy  are  too  violent  to  be  lasting."  But 
lie  did  not  give  himself  time  to  sec,  that  Tragedy 
owes  this  greater  violence  of  effect  to  the  shortness 
(rf  its  plan ;  that  is,  to  its  stricter  unity,  its  more 
concentrated  and  unbroken  interest^  its  "  close 
accelerated  plot*;"  to  that  «9^oov,  as  Aristotle 
calls  it,  so  essential  to  tlie  purpose  of  Tragedy, 
which  is,  to  give  the  pleasure  of  strong  emotion. 
The  Epic  Poem  is  of  too  tedious  a  length,  too 
various  and  episodic,  to  produce  that  effect  in  the 
same  degree  as  Tragedy,  which  is  read,  or  seen,  at 
once,  and  without  interruption. 

But  the  case  was,  that  Dryden,  (who,  as  I  have 
before  had  occasion  to  remark  ^  appears  to  have 
taken  his  idea  of  Aristotle  from  French  trans- 
lation,) wrote  this  in  the  preface  to  his  translation 
of  an  Epic  Poem " ;  on  the  contrary,  when  he  was 
writing  on  Tragedy ^  he  gave  Tragedy  the  pre- 
ference \ 

NOTE    274. 

P.   206.     His  Poem,   if  proportionably 

CONTRACTED,  WILL  APPEAR  CURTAILED. 

— Mu«pov. — Notiiing  is  more  diverting  than  the 

explanation  which  some  commentators  give  of  this 

word, 

*  Dr.  Hurd's  Disc,  on  Poet,  Imit,  p.  140. 

*  Vol.  i.  p.  281,  note'^,         •  Preface  to  the  Mneid, 

^    *'  Though    Tragedy   he  justly  preferred  above   the 
other" — i.e.  the  Epic  Poem.    Essay  on  Dram,  Poesy, 


ii 


NOTES,  .443 

word,  and  its  application  here.  The  Poem,  it 
seems,  is  compared  to  the  tail  of  a  mouse,  or  a 
rat,  which  grows  less  ami  less  toxvards  the  end:— 
"  versus  cxtremum  aitenuata  *."  I  never  heard, 
that  any  naturalists  have  observed  this  property  to 
be  peculiar  to  the  tails  of  rats  and  mice.  The 
fiict  seeuis  to  be,  that  the  words  /txua^ev,  and  /x£iHpoy, 
however  their  etymologies  may  appear  to  differ, 
have  both  the  same  meaning — that  of  cropped, 
curtailed,   tronque,   as  M.  Batteux   translates  it. 

[Hephd'st,  p.  92,  ed.  De  Pauu^l—lio  which  is 
opposed,  SoXi^oa^i^ —  a  long-tailed  verse :  0  xxto^ 

TO  TiA©J  TrAfova^wv  (tvXXoc^y}, 

In  tiie  Rhetoric,  Aristotle  applies  ft£»«p<^  to  a 
period  that  is  too  short,  and  disappomts  the  ear  by 
ending  abruptly.  The  passage  is  curious  for  its 
expression,  and  illustrates  both  the  word  itself,  and 
its  application,  here,  to  a  Poem,  which  disappoints 
the  expectation  of  a  reader  in  the  same  manner, 
by  ending  before  its  time.  Aa  $1,  %oli  ret  x«Aa,  xai 
rocq  TT^pio^H;,  f*.nri  MEIOTPOT2  f Ii/at,  /a»jt£  MAKPAS  * 
TO  /A£v  ytL^  MIKPON  [i.  e.  /otftapov]  Tr^ofnno^im  iroX' 
XxKii   7rot£t  TQv  dxpooiTriy  dvxyKn   yxp,  Irxv,  in  opixcau 

iTTl     TO      TTO^^W,       xa*      TO     [XETpOV     8      l^H     Iv     laUTO)     0/>«, 

ANTI2nA20Hi  irocva-ocfxivn^  'OION,  JIPOSITTAIEIN 
yiyi/fo-Gai,    (Tta    rnv  ANTIKP0T2IN.      Met.  III.  9, 

p.  592,  ed.  Duval. 

*  So  Robortelli,  Victorius,  Goulston. — "  Appaia  una 
"  coda  di  topoj*  Castelvctro. — "  Venga  ella  a  far'  appa- 
'^  rcntia  di  coda  di  sorcio,  col  suo  fine  angusto."   Piccol. 


•If!! 


444 


NOTES. 


NOTE  275. 

P.  206.      If'  extended    to    the    usual 

LENGTH. 

AxoXahvroc  tw  t8  fjksr^s  [xriKu — .  Almost  all  the 
commentators  and  translators  understand  —  an- 
swerable  to  the  length  of  the  rmtre.  And  this  is, 
certainly,  the  most  obvious  and  unforced  sense  of 
the  words :  for,  had  Aristotle  meant,  by  /Afx^oy, 
the  standard  measure^  or  length,  of  the  Poem,  as 
other  commentators  understmd  it,  he,  probably, 
would  have  rather  said— TMTa  MHKOTi:  METPXli*. 
lAirpQv  is  so  used  in  the  passage  given  in  the  last 
note :  to  METPON  i  Ix"  ^^^  '^^^'^^  k^-  ^^^  however, 
vietre  be  the  sense,  (for,  after  all,  the  passage  is 
ambiguous,)  the  expression  must,  I  think,  be  un- 
derstood as  a  short  way  of  saying—"  conform- 
"  able  to  the  usual  length  of  Poenis  in  that  imtrt''' 

of  Poems  in  heroic  verse.     See  what  is  said, 

cap,  xxiv.  about  the  adaptation  of  the  hexameter 
to  Epic  Poetry :  H<^it?  MAKPAN  o-urao-ii/  h  aaAm 
^i7roi»ix£v  ii  Tw  ^f«w.  —  I  cannot  conceive  that 
Aristotle  meant  to  say,  that  the  length  of  the 
Epic  Poem  was  proportioned,  or  ought  to  be  pro- 
portioned, to  the  length  of  the  rmtre.  Yet  so 
the  commentators.  "Si— Poeta  secutus  fuerit 
"  longitudinem,  quae  instar  videtur  ejus  car- 
"  mimsr  Vict. — "  Si  am  rnttri  longitudine  prove- 
"  hatur.''  Goukt.  &c.    It  was  not  the  length  of  tlie 

hexameter 
»  As^  fiivwj  Of ^,  cap.  xxiv.  and  taf.  vii. 


NOTES.  445 

hexameter  which  made  it  the  fittest  measure  for 
heroic  Poetry,  but  tlie  nature  of  ihefeet  of  which  it 
is  composed ;  and  on  that  account  it  was  preferred, 

as  roi^ifAUTaTov  xa*  oyxco^ifXToy  rm  [Atr^uv.  cap.  Xxiv. 

The  length  of  a  verse  is  to  be  measured  by  the 
times  (xpcyoi)  which  compose  it.  Now  the  hexa- 
meter is  but  one  third  longer  than  the  Iambic 
trimeter  ;  their  respective  times  being  24,  and  1 8  : 
so  that  the  length  of  an  Epic  Poem  would  be 
strictly  proportioned  to  the  length  of  its  vej^se — 
TW  TH  fAiT^x  ^9]x« — wcrc  it  lougcr  by  one  third 
only  than  a  Tragedy. 

NOTE    276. 

P.  206.     Diluted. 

'r^ec^n—wateri/.  Aristotle  uses  the  same  me- 
taphor in  the  following  passage  of  his  second 
book  De  Republicd,  where,  opposing,  the  commu- 
nity of  wives  and  children  proposed  by  Plato  *, 
he  very  justly  objects,  that  it  would  weaken  the 
bond  of  social  union,  by  diluting  the  social  affec- 
tions, and  destroying — 

Relations  dear,  and  all  the  charities 

Of  father,  son,  and  brother . 

Far,  Lost,  IV.  756. 

— Ey  CB  Tin  TToXei,  miv  C>IAIAN  oivxyKouov 
'TAAPH  yivecQui,  Six  tiju  KOivtavtotv  Tf}v  ToiocvTfjV, 

KOLt 

•  Rep.  V. 


446 


NOTES. 


Kcci  TKt^oc    Xeysiv    tov   efiov  ,    tj    viov,    TrocTB^otf   ij 

TTCCTUCCy  VlOV,       ilCTTTS^    yu^  fXlTC^OV  yXvKVy    6tg  TTOXV 

vSuo  jt^i^^gv,  dvocKrQyjTov  'TTOiet  t%v  K^ot(TkVy  urea 
crvfifiaivei  tcou  rviv  OixeiOTriTocy  Tfjv  Tr^oq  aXXriXngf 
Tiyy  ccTTo  Tuv  cvofjiccruv  TMTUiy — x.t.A.  I  s>top 
there,  because  the  passage  is  evidently  defective, 
though  the  sense  is  plain. 

KOTE    277. 

P.  207.  AXD,  ALSO,  IN  THE  PECULIAR 
END    AT    WHICH    IT    AIMS — . 

Ka»,  It»,  t«  m?  -riyvt^  ^y^ — •  The  expression 
is  ambiguous.  It  may  mean,  either  the  end,  or 
business,  of  the  Poetic  art  in  general,  or,  that  of 
Tragedy— of  the  Trtf^/c  «;•/ *.  The  latter,  how- 
ever, seems,  pretty  clearly,  te  be  the  meaning :  for 
his  expression — tstok  re  iia^i^et  9rao-<,  KAI  ETI 
ru  Trig  r£)(vni  Ifyw — shews  the  author  to  be  speak- 
ing, here,  of  a  distinct  advantage.  But,  if  we 
understand  it  to  mean,  that  Tragedy  answers  the 
end  of  Poetry  better  than  the  Epic,  this  cannot 
be  considered  as  an  advantage  distinct  from  those 
enumerated  before,  which  are,  plainly,  such  as 
contribute  to  the  general  end  of  Poetry — that  of 

giving 

^  I     I      1^  I.  ■       III     ■         11 

*  He  alludes  here  to  Plato's  expressions,  who  con- 
tended, on  the  contrary,  that  the  bond  of  social  unity 
roust  be  the  closer,  where  all  the  citizens — a/ua  ^Qeyyuvrat 

* Ta  TQidh  pTifjLaja,  i9  te  EMON,  uat  to  'OTK  EMON. 

p  356,  eJ,  Mass, 

*  See  NOTE  267. 


NOTES.  447 

giving  pleasure— of  interesting,  delighting,   strik- 
ing, &c.    Whereas,  if  the  peculiar  end  of  Tragedy 
be  superior  to  that  of  Epic  Poetry,  this,  indeed, 
is  an  additional  and  separate  advantage.    Besides 
the    parenthetical    insertion    which    immediately 

follows — hi  TAP,   i   T^»    Tu;^«(rj6k  iS^ovny  ttoihv  icvroci 

{i.e.  the  Epic  and  Tragic  Poems,)  dxxa.  mv  sl^n- 
f*>my — plainly  implies,  that  the  rs^^vti;  l^yov,  of 
which  he  had  been  speaking,  was  that  of  affordin<y 
the  particular  pleasure  j&roper  to  the  species.  And 
thus,  too,  the  word  l^yov  is  used  in  other  passat^es: 
r^tKy(Ji»i  i^yovy  cap.  vi.  and  cap.  xiiL 

Ihe  words,  fxocxxov  m  rsXisg  Tvyvccviiirxj  present 
a  similar,  but  more  embarrassing,  ambiguity.  Is 
T£A^,  here,  the  end  of  Poetry,  or  the  end  of 
Tragedy  ?  If  we  take  it  in  the  latter  sense,  Aris- 
totle will  say,  that  Tragedy  is  superior,  both  be- 
cause its  end — the  peculiar  effect  w  hich  it  purposes 
to  produce — is  superior  to  that  of  the  Epic  Poem, 
andy  because  it  attains  that  end  more  perfectly 
than  the  Epic  attains  its  end.  But  this  Aristotle 
lias  not  proved,  nor  does  it  appear  to  be  true.  On 
the  other  hand,  if  we  understand  rtx^  to  mean 
the  end  of  the  poetic  art  \  it  is  obviously  true, 
that,  if  Tragedy  be  superior  in  all  those  respects 
which  he  had  mentioned — in  its  closer  unity,  itij 
brevity,  its  ha^ytix,  its  7nusic,  and  its  decorations — 
^ and, 

*  As  it  does  in  a  similar  expression,  cap.  xxv.  which 
favours  the  same  sense  here :  '<  «  rvyxavoi  t«  rex*;  ti 
ivT»)f"-^/.f.  of  Poetry  in  general. 


It 


^J 


448  NOTES. 

and,  besides  J  (xat  it*)  in  the  specific  end  at  which 
it  aims — it  must,  on  the  whole,  be  preferable  to 
the  Epic  Poem,  as  answering  more  effectually  the 
end  of  Poetry,  by  giving  greater  pleasure. 

For,  that  this,  in  Aristotle's  view,  was  the  great 
end  of  the  art,  and  of  all  its  branches,  appears, 
if  I  mistake  not,  evidently,  from  many  other  pas- 
sages of  this  treatise,  as  well  as  from  that  now 
before  us.  Nor  does  he,  any  where,  appear  to 
me  to  give  any  countenance  to  an  idea,  which 
rational  criticism  has,  now,  pretty  well  exploded— 
that  utility  and  instruction  are  the  end  of  Poetry. 
That  it  may  indeed  be  rendered,  in  some  degree, 
useful  and  improving,  few  will  deny;  none,  that 
it  ought  to  be  made  so,  if  it  can.  But,  that  the 
chief  end  and  purpose  of  Poetry  is  to  instruct — 
that  Homer  wrote  his  Iliad  on  purpose  to  teach 
mankind  the  mischiefs  of  discord  among  chiefs, 
and  his  Odyssey,  to  prove  to  them  the  advantages 
of  staying  at  home  and  taking  care  of  their  fami- 
lies'— this  is  so  manifestly  absurd,  that  one  is 
really  astonished  to  see  so  many  writers,  one  after 
the  other,  discoursing  gravely  in  defence  of  it  **.  j 

•  "  La  vcrite  qui  sert  de  fond  a  cette  fiction,  ct  qui 
"  avec  elle  compose  la  Fable,  est,  Que  l*absence  d^une 
"  personne  hor$  de  chix  sot,  ou  qui  rCa  point  rail  a  ce  qui 
"  ^*y  f^i^y  y  ^^w^  de  grands  desordres" — And  again— 
♦*  Ces  grands  noms  de  Rois,  de  Heros,  d'Achille,  d'Aga- 
<*  meninon,  &  d'^Ulysse,  nc  designent  pas  moins  ks 
"  dernters  Bourgeois*'*  8ic. — Du  Poeme  Ep.  I.  lo. 

^  Piccolomini,  in  particular,  p.  369,  &c.  of  his  Annot, 

nella  Poet.  d*Jrist,     Aud  the  reader  may  see,  if  he  has 

^  any 


NOTES.  449 

It  is  true  indeed,  tliat  Aristotle,  in  his  account 
of  Tragedy,  mentions  the  correction  and  refine- 
ment of  the  passions,  pity,  terror,  &c.  as  a  useful 
efcct  of  Tragic  representations.  But  he  no  where, 
either  in  his  definition,  where  we  might  surely 
have  expected  him  to  be  explicit,  or  in  any  other 
part  of  his  book,  calls  that  effect  the  end  of  Tm- 
gedy.  All  his  expressions  prove,  that  A/^  end, 
both  of  Tragic  and  of  Epic  Poetry,  was  pleasure ; 
though,  Mith  respect  to  Tragedy,  he  asserts,  (by 
way,  as  I  have  before  suggested,  of  obviating 
Plato's  objections  to  it^)  that  the  pleasure  arising 
from  it  was  so  far  from  being  pernicious,  that  it 
was  even  useful ;  so  far  from  inflaming  the  pas- 
sions  of  men,  that  it  tended,  on  the  contrary,  to 
purify  and  moderate  them  in  common  life.  When 
the  reader  sees  the  expressions,  to  which  I  allude, 
laid  together,  he  will  hardly,  I  think,  entertain  any 
doubt  upon  this  head.— ra  /ucyira, «»?  ^TXArxiFEI ' 

11  T^fli- 

any  stomach  to  see,  the  disgusting  nonsense  of  Le  Bossu 
upoH  this  subject,  cL  ii.  iii.  iv.  &c.  of  his  first  book.  By 
way  of  perfect  contrast,  he  may  then  turn  to  the  Disser- 
tation  on  the  Idea  of  Universal  Poetry,  [Dr.  Kurd's  Hor. 
voLil']  See  also  Dr.  Beattie's  Essay  on  Poetry  and  Music ^ 
ch.  i.— .This  absurd  notion  was  also  long  ago  combated 
in  a  masterly  manner  by  that  fine  and  philosophical 
writer,  La  Motte,  in  the  discourse  prefixed  to  his  Odes, 

•  Note  45,  p.  3.  of  this  volume. 
'  This  looks  much,  as  if  he  would  have  assented  to 
the  rational  assertion  of  Eratosthenes,  which  Strabo  com- 
voL.  II.  CG  bats. 


iH 


450  NOTES. 

if  T^ayw^i*,  fAu9»  fAt^n  iV»»',  &C.  cap.  vi. — in  ^<  »x  * 
avrn     uiro    T^ocyu^ia^   'HAONH.     cap,  xiii. — a    ya^ 
irao-ak    hi    ^»iTnv   'HAONHN    awo  T^ayowiaf,    akXa 
THN  'OIKEIAN.     Etij  ^i  mv  aVo  £A£8  xa*  (poj3j«,  hx 
fAiju»i<r£&)?,  ^f»  'HAONHN  Ta^ao^tua^iiF  roy  trommP — 

cap,  Xiv. iV,  UfTlFt^  ^WOV    IV  OAOV,    TTOiW  T»|k  OIKEIAN 

'HAONHN.  cap,  xxiii. — tuv  ej'*",  «^*'  "'f  AI  'HAONAI, 
&C.  cap,  lilt, — ^«i  yaf  «  TTiv  Tu;^«rap  'HAONHN 
»o*£iF  ATTA2,  aXAa  mv  it^ti/Ltivnv.  zi/J. 

From  all  this  it  appears,  I  tliink,  indubitably, 
tliat  the  great  end  of  Poetry  in  general,  was,  in 
Aristotle's  opinion,  to  give  pleasure ;  as  Castel- 
t^etrOy  long  ago,  rightly  contended.  **  Coloro,  clie 
"  vo^^liono,  che  la  poesia  sia  trovata  principal- 
"  niente  per  giovare,  o  pergiovarc  e  per  dilettare 
^^  insieme,  veggano.  che  non  soppongano  all* 
*<  autoriti  d'Aristotelc,  il  quale,  qui  ed  altrove^ 
**  non  par  che  le  assegni  altro,  che  diktto ;  e  se 
•*  pure  le  concede  alcuno  giovaniento,  glide  concede 
"  per  accidente ;  come  h  la  purgatione  dello  spa- 
"  vento  e  della  compassione  per  mezzo  della  Tra- 

**  gedla,""  p.  505- 

The  peculiar  end  of  Tragedy,  he  has  expressly 
told  us,  is  to  afford  that  pleasure,  which  results 
from  fictitious  terror  and  pity :  mv  aVo  ixta  xxi 
fo(iH  (?i«  lAifxn^ri^f  rlJo^Tiv.— Wliat  he  regarded  as  the 
peculiar  end  of  Epic  Poetry,  I  observe  that  he 

has 


tats, —  voivmv  moetxa  fnoxsi{i(j^ax  iTXArnriAl,  OT 
AIAASKAAIAS.  ^traho,  p.  15.  And  see  the  Diss,  on 
tht  Idea  ofUn'tv,  Poetry,  above  referred  to. 


NOTES.  451 

has  no  where  distinctly  said.  But  from  what  he 
has  said,  of  the  advantages  which  its  plan  affords, 
with  respect  to  grandeur,  and  variety,  and  the 
admission  of  the  wonderful  and  surprising*,  and 
also  of  the  superior  richness  of  its  language  ^,  we 
may  collect,  that  his  ideas  on  this  subject  accorded 
with  those  of  the  best  modem  critics ;  and  that 
he  held  the  end  of  the  Epic  Poem  to  be,  accord- 
ing to  the  exact  description  of  an  eminent  writer, 
"  admiration,  produced  by  a  grandeur  of  design, 
**  and  variety  of  important  incidents,  and  sus- 
"  taincd  by  all  the  energy  and  minute  particula- 
•*  rity  of  description  *." 

This  end,  however,  and  these  peculiar  advan- 
tages, of  the  Epic  plan,  Aristotle  has  not,  as  I 
have  before  remarked  ^  brought  forward,  to  com- 
plete the  comparison  in  this  chapter;  but  he 
plainly,  and,  I  think,  justly,  considered  tbem  ^ 
more  tlian  compensated  by  the  closer  interest, 
more  perfect  illusion,  stronger  emotion,  deeper 
impression,  and,  in  his  view,  more  useful  tendency, 
of  Tragedy.  The  Epic  Poem  loses  in  force  of 
effect,  what  it  gains  in  variety;  in  nature  and 
passion,  what  it  gains  in  grandeur  and  sublimity. 
The  \ery  necessity,  and  the  merit,  of  its  variety, 

and 


«  Cap.xxiy. —  TransL  PartlU.  Sect.  2, 

*  Cap.  xxii.  ad  fin.  and  cap,  xxiv.— Aw  koli  yUnrai,  &c, 
Traml.  vol  i.  p.  174,  175.  and  180,  181. 

*  Dr.  Hurd's  Disc,  on  Poet.  Imit.  p.  141, 

*  Vol.i./).  58,  59, 

G  G  2 


a   « 


tl 


4S» 


NOTES. 


and  of  the  iTriKrohav  dvofAOiei^  iwucoiioii  \  are  a 
confession  of  its  defects,  as  implyini:^  a  too  great 
extent  of  plan,  a  feebleness  of  interest,  a  want  of 
relief.  It  seems,  indeed,  to  be  the  great  art  of  the 
Epic  Poet,  to  make  us  amends,  by  the  striking 
beauty  of  particular  parts,  for  the  fati^;ue  and 
ennui  which  unavoidably  results,  more  or  less,  from 
the  'wkolc.  A  strong  proof  of  the  superiority 
of  Tragedy,  and  of  the  justness  of  Aristotle's 
decision,  is,  that  every  reader,  is  most  delighted 
witii  the  Episodes  of  Epic  Poetry ;  w  ith  those 
subordinate  and  more  compressed  actions,  which 
give  us  the  very  pleasure  of  Iragaly — which 
interest  and  afiect  us  by  exciting 7>//j/  and  terror: 
with  the  meetiniT  of  Hector  and  Androujache,  and 
the  supplication  of  Priam  to  Achilles  for  the  body 
of  his  son,  in  tlie  Iliad ;  with  the  love,  despair, 
and  death,  of  Dido,  the  episode  of  Nisus  and 
Euryalus,  and  the  parting  scene  between  old 
Evander  and  his  son,  in  the  iEneid  ". 

But  though,  of  all  ihe  pleasures  which  Poctr}% 
or  Music,  or  Painting,  can  afibrd,  the  pleasure  of 
emotion  deserves  to  be  esteemed  the  greatest,  yet 

all 


*  Cap.  xxiv. 

«  jEn,  VIII.  557,  &c.— particularly,  from  v.  572  to 
584.  I  do  not  know  any  where  a  finer  example  of 
natural  pathos,  heightened  by  the  nicest  selection  of  ex- 
pression, and  by  such  harmony  of  versification,  as  would 
aln)ost  make  nonsense  pass  upon  the  understanding  for 
sense,  through  the  recomraeudatioD,  if  I  may  be  allov?cd 
«ch  an  expression,  of  the  car. 


NOTES.  453 

all  those  arts  certainly  afford  considerable  plea- 
sures of  other  kinds ;  and,  perhaps,  to  do  full 
justice  to  the  Epic  Poem,  we  ought  not  to  charac* 
terizc  it  by  any  one  particular  and  principal  plea- 
sure, but  by  that  variety,  which  is  peculiar  to  it, 
and  which  comprehends,  in  some  degree  or  other, 
every  sort  of  pleasure,  that  serious  Poetry  can 
give".  Whatever,  therefore,  may  be  decided 
with  respect  to  the  comparative  excellence  of  the 
Poems  themselves,  we  may  safely  perhaps  assent 
to  the  general  decision  of  criticism,  respecting  the 
comparative  merits  of  the  Poets,  and  allow,  that 
**  the  first  praise  of  genius  is  due  to  the  writer  of 
"  an  Epic  Poem  ;  as  it  requires  an  assemblage 
"  of  all  the  powers  which  are  singly  sufficient  for 
"  other  compositions*.' 


o  » 


■  Some  writers  give  still  greater  latitude  to  the  variety 
of  Epic  Poetry,  And  indeed,  if  what  s/iouid,  or  may,  be 
done,  is  to  be  determined  by  what  has  been  done  by  the 
best  Epic  Poets — by  Homer,  Virgil,  and  Tasso,(for 
Ariosto  is  a  comic  Poet,)  it  even  admits,  occasionally,  of 
some  departure  from  rigid  dignity,  and  of  some  approach, 
at  least,  to  the  smile  of  Comedy,  though  not  to  the  broad 
laugh  of  Farce.  See  Lord  Kaims,  Elm.  o/Giticism, 
voL  i.  p.  289,  and  the  treatise  Ilfff  '0/;*)j^»  vomcrst^,  p.  257, 
ffol,  V.  of  Eci.  Horn,  Ernest. 

•  Dr.  Johnson's  Life  of  Milton. 


G  G  3 


[    454    1 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS. 


VOL.  I. 


Page  21,  Noie^,  It  ought  to  have  been  mentioned, 
that  ihls  book  of  the  Odyssey  was  not  translated  by 
Pope  himself,  but  by  Fenton. 

P.  147.  By  Agatho.]  Perhaps  I  ought  rather  to 
have  adhered  to  the  old  and  best  authenticated  reading, 
iiyaGav»  Victorius  found  Ayo^v  only  in  one  MS.  and 
was  induced  to  prefer  it,  principally  because  the  other 
reading  could  not  well  be  reconciled  with  /its  interpreta- 
tion of  the  passage.  He  also  objects,  that  the  conjunction, 
uai,  in  that  reading,  would  have  no  meaning,  '*  cum  csset, 
<*  ilh  pactOy  nihil  quod  copularet^  But  ncu  must  then  be 
rendered  eiiam,  and,  indeed,  can  be  understood  no  other- 
wise, if  we  read  arioJ^Gv;  and  the  sense  will  be — **  as 
*'  Achilles  is  made  a  good  character  even  by  Homer ;" 
as  if  he  had  added — who  has  so  well  observed  tlic  o/twior, 
the  historical  likeness,  and  has  painted  in  so  strong  colours 
the  angry  violence  of  his  temper.  This  sense  would  be 
siLfficienily  expressed  in  my  translation,  by  reading — 
«  as  Achilles  is  drawn,  even  by  Homer." 

« 

P.  187,  Note  9.  ''  But  that  party*  &c.]  I  found 
reason  to  alter  my  opinion,  and  the  note  referred  to, 
after  this  note  on  the  translation  was  printed.  Dele, 
therefore, ''  But  that  part,'*  8wC.  ti)  **  Sect,  22,"  inclusively. 
And  read — See  the  NoTt. 

P.  259.     It   escaped  me,  till  that  note  was   printed, 

that  ^lian  also  says,  **  Dionysius  tht  Colophonian ;"  it 

5  must 


ADDITIONS   and   CORRECTIOKS.  455 

must  therefore  be  allowed  to  be  probable,  that  if  Aristotle 
and  Plutarch  speak  of  the  same  painter,  so  do  also  Aris- 
totle and  -^lian.  The  difficulty,  however,  pointed  outt 
of  reconciling  -Elian's  account  with  that  of  Aristotle, 
will  still  remain. 

P.  294.  Though  I  think  it  clear,  that  Stanley 
misunderstood  the  passage  of  Aristotle,  I  confess  it  is  by 
no  means  clear,  that  he  misunderstood  that  of  Philos- 
tratus.  This,  therefore,  was  too  hastily  advanced :  for 
though  the  general  use  of  the  adverb  aTroTuhiv  certainly 
favours  the  sense  in  which  I  understood  the  passage,  yet 
I  fear  there  is  no  good  authority  for  the  word  %of  ©-,  used 
as  we  use  choruSy  to  signify  the  choral  ode  or  song.  It  al- 
ways, I  believe,  means  the  choral  performers.  The  verb, 
cuvirti^E,  also  contributed  to  mislead  me,  if  I  was  misled ; 
as  it  is  more  applicable  to  the  contraction  of  prolixity,  thaa 
to  the  diminution  of  number.  Yet  it  is  used  in  the  same 
sense,  and  on  the  same  subject,  by  Jul,  Pollux,  IV.  15, 
od  Jinem, 

VOL.  ir. 

Page  83.  See  also  the  description,  in  the  Trachinia 
of  Sophocles,  of  Hercules  dashing  out  the  brains  of  Lichas 
against  a  rock,  v.  779 — 782. 

P.  98.  **  Purple  dresses;'  ^cc] 

'IMATU  XPTXA  DAPAZXaN  Till  XOPXli,  p«x9-  (po^tt. 
Translated  by  Grotius, 

.  -  -  «  Aut  lectus  scenae  praebitor, 

"  Aureas  gregi  cum  vestes  dedcrit,  fert  centunculum." 

jintiphanes,  apud  jit  hen,  p.  loj- 
Grotii  Excerpta^  &c.  p.  627. 

P.  197,  Note  135.  The  alteration,  however, 
from  0EATnv,  to  IIOIHtw,  is  rather  violent ;  and  it  is  sug- 
gested to  me  by  Castlevetro's  conjecture,  that  Aristotle 

c  G  4  might, 


45^  ADDITIONS  and  corrections. 

might,  pcrliaps,  express  the  sense  given  by  Dacier,  without 
using  the  word  wwirrrpi,  and  that  what  he  said  might  be 
this:  *'  which  escaped  him  \j,e,  Carcinus]  for  want  of 
**  seeing  the  action^  as  a  spectator ^ — o  fwi  c(»<uvTa  112  [or 
HSriEP]  kam*  [sc.  ovra]  haaOavvt,  This  is  favoured  by 
the  preceding  expression, — ^"OPXIN,  XI2IIEP  ttol^  aun»i 
yiyvofuv^  TOi(  vrgarrofUfQii, 

P.  224.  "  9r«3iov  —  nevtr  used  hut  to  signify  a 
child."] — Unless  irjreHo^irtxnf,  as  a  term  of  endearment ; 
as  we  often  apply  child  to  a  grown  person :  a  sense  in 
which  it  can  hardly  be  used  here. 

P.  333,  "  One  Tragedy  at  each  different  festival»*'\ 
And  thus,  I  find.  Menage  understood.  "  On  ne  reprc- 
**  sentoit,  chacun  de  ces  jours-la,  qu'unpoeme  de  chaqut 
'  poett.^^  Pratique  dc  Theatre,  par  D'Aubignac,  ii.  f.48. 


it 


[    457    3 


REMARKS 


UPON   THE   FIRST   EDITION, 


BY  THE 


TRANSLATOR, 


ADDED   TO 


THIS    EDITION. 


REMARKS. 


459 


DISSERTATION    I. 


REMARK    I. 

Vol.  I.  page  54. — The   acknowledged    supe- 
riority OF  Virgil  in  touches  of  this  kind, 

I  should  have  noticed  Lucretius,  v.  1369 — 1377  ;— 

Inque  dies  raagis  in  montem  succedere  sylvas 
Cogebant,  infraque  locum  concedcre  cultis  : 
Prata,  lacus,  rivos,  segetes,  vinetaque  laeta 
Collibus,  et  campis  ut  haberent,  atque  olearum 
Cserula  distinguens  inter  plaga  currcre  posset 
Per  tumuloSy  et  convalles,  camposque  profusa : 
Ut  nunc  esse  vides  vario  distincta  lepore 
Omnia,  quae  pom  is  intersita  dulcibus  ornant, 
Arbustisque  tenent  felicibus  obsita  circum. 

— which  is  much    more   landscape-painting  than  any 
other  passage  in  the  Latin  poets,  that  I  recollect. 


DISSERTATION 


460 


REMARKS. 


DISSERTATION  II. 


REMARK   2» 

Vol.L  page  87. — Except  the  action  (if  the 

EXPRESSION    IS    ALLOWABLE)    OF   SPEAKING. 

'«  Speaking  is  acting,  both  in  philosophical  strictness,  and 
as  to  all  moral  purposes,"  Paley's  Prin.  of  Mor.  Phil. 
U.  286.  7*^  Ed. 


REMARK  3. 
Vol.  I.  p.  89,  90.  note '. 

See  Scrre — Essais  sur  Ics  Principcs  de  rHarmonic, 
p.  46—47.  *'  On  peut  en  consequence  concevoir  que 
cet  ancien  genre  pouvoit  fournir  a  la  melodic,  surtout 
a  une  mclodie  recitante,  des  intervalles  que  leur  extreme 
petitesse  rendoit  tres-propres  aux  expressions  de  mollesse 
et  de  langueur,  aux  expressions  de  sentimens  qui  suppo- 
sent  dans  Tame,  et  en  consequence  dans  Torgane  vocale, 
une  sone  d*incrtie,  un  penchant  a  ne  former  que  les  plus 
petits  intervalles  melodiques,  que  Pharmonie,  qu*une  suc- 
cession fondamentale  tres-naturelle  puisse  suggerer." 

His  «'  inertie"  touches  upon  my  solution  of  Dr.  Beat- 
tie's  question,  which  I  gave  in  a  letter  to  my  friend  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Elmsall:  i.e.  —  a  low-spirited  man  speaks  ia 
small  intervals,  and  minor  tliirds,  and  semitones,  &c.  for 
the  same  reason  as  he  takes  short  steps,  and  moves  lan- 
guidly, &c. 


REMARKS. 


461 


TRANSLATION  and  NOTES. 


REMARK  4. 

Note  14.  Vol.  I.  p.  264. — Mandrabulus, 

"  Nomen Comcediam  potius  quam  Tragoediam 

indicat."  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  p.  121.  From  MovS^^a,  stabulum* 
This  argument  from  the  derivation  of  the  mme  escaped 
me.  *  ^ 

REMARK   5. 

'Note   15.  ibid, — Hegemon — inventor   of   Pa- 
rodies. 

My  Translation  —  inventor  of  parodies,  wants  either 
alteration,  or  explanation,  from  Atlienseus.  See  Mr. 
Tyrwhitt,  p.  121.  *'  Qiiod  Hegemo  primus  parodias 
fccisse  dicitur,  nihil  plus  significat,  quam  eum  hanc  ludicrs 
poeseos  speciem  primum  secrsim  excoluisse,  et  pro 
acroamate  in  scena  exhibuisse,  &c.'* 

remark  6. 
Note  16.  Vol.1,  p.  266.— The  Deliad. 
See  the  excellent  note  of  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  pi  122. 


REMARK    7. 

Note  18.  note  S  Vol.  I.  p.  275. 

The  observation  of  the  Monthly  Review,  July  1 793, 
p.  243,  about  the  inconsistency  of  my  remark  and  my 
version,  is  fair,  and  must  be  noticed. 

REMARK 


462 


REMARKS. 


REMARK    8. 

< 

Note  22.  Vol.  I.  p.  281. — MavSavuv --to  discover* 
See  Euiip.  Phceniss.  v.  48.  and  50. — iofind  out, 

REMARK    9. 

Jbid,  note  *.  Vol.1,  p.  280. — Miimffjuvof — and  so  Mr. 
Tyrwhitt,  p.  126. 

REMARK    10. 

Translation,  Vol.  I.  p.  no. — Homer  alone — . 

My  version,  here,  does  not  say  all  that  Aristotle  says. 
He  says,~Homer  was  not  only,  the  only  good  Epic  poet, 
but  the  only  Epic  Poet  whose  poetry  was  dramatic. 

REMARK    II. 

Translation,  ibid. —  Once  made  their  ap- 
pearance. 

See  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  p.  129.  v.  ffofa^avfiyuj. —  This 
agrees  with  my  idea  of  the  word. — Entrevoir, 

REMARK     12. 

Translation,  Vol.1,  p.  11 1. — iEscHYLus  first 

ADDED  A  SECOND  ACTOR. 

See  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  p.  131..  v.  vttox^ituv — . 

Hesychius  says  the  saine,  v.  mox^nnny — 0  f*  ny  ffxnvn 
afroK^iVOfjuv^ — where  Salmatius  corrects,  vTroxfivofxiv^  : 
but,  I  believe,  aTroH^ivofMev^  is  right.  He  tliat  answers 
upon  the  stage. 

REMARK    13. 

Note  30.  Vol.  I.  p.  294. — ^Eschylus — abridged 
THE  Choral  part. 

Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  p.  133,  quotes  Philostratus,  and  takes 
XOfH^  for  the  odes  themselves.  Perhaps  my  pentimentOf 
in  the  Addenda,  was  needless. 


REMARKS. 


463 


REMARK    14. 

Note  30.  Vol.  I.  p.  294.—/  believe  the  passage  may  he 
rectified  by  transposition, 

I  was  not  aware,  that  Dr.Bentley  had  so  corrected  this 
passage  in  his  Dissertation  upon  Phalaris,  p.  263,  264. 

REMARK    15. 

Note  38.  Vol.  I.  p.  320. — The  ridiculous,  &c. 

I  should  have  mentioned  Plato  De  Rep.  L.  V.  p.  330. 
(Ed.  Massey.) — where  he  says,  nothing  is  ridiculous  but 
■what  is  Hcatov. 

See  the  excellent  note  of  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  'H  Iz  xc^fjua^ia 
fr<»,  p.  137. 

# 

REMARK    36. 

Note  42.  Vol.  I.  p.  337. — On  the  whole^  it  seems  not 
improbable y  &c. 

I  need  not  have  altered  Aw/uyjcr<f  to  /^ti.ttwo'iN.  The  phrase, 
^f%f I  T»  (TM/J^nx©-  «v«i,  escaped  me.    Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  p.  1 41 . 

REMARK    17. 

Note  44.  Vol.  H.  p.  l.^Pcrfectly  to  exclude  the  inac- 
curacies^  &c. 

'*  Loquendi  eadem  quidem  ratio  veteri  sevo  frequen- 
tata,  ut  sententia  aliqua  simul  cum  negatione  contrarii 
cfFeratur;  quod  vulgo,  ut  multa  alia  prisci  sermonis  sim- 
plicitati  et  infantiae  omnino  communia,  Orientis  linguis 
proprium  esse  putant."  Heyne's  Opusc.  Acad.  Vol.  2. 
p.  106.  note  ^ 

REMARK    18. 

Note  45.  Vol.11,  p.  3.  — Effecting,  through 
Pity  and  Terror,  &c. 

I  should  have  observed,  that  in  the  expression— *a< 
Tfltij  TT^axTiXM;,  Kou  TMq  tv^udiaTixai^^ — the  former  alludes  to 
the  Tragic  music,  and  the  purgation  of  Terror  and 
Pity,  Uc. ;  and  tJie  latter— Evfisyianxaij — to  sacred  music. 

REMARK 


464 


REMARKS. 


REMARK    19. 

Note  46.  Vol.  II.  p.  26,  27. — Not  improperly  compaud 
to  our  recitative. 

That  the  Music  to  which  its  Iambics  were  set,  was  a 
kind  of  Recitative,  is  supported  by  a  passage  in  the 
treatise  of  Philodemus  Tiz^i  M8<r{«»ij,  discovered  in  the 
Ruins  of  Herculaneum,  (printed  at  Naples  1 793)  where 
he  speaks  of  that  melody  as — (lac^ov  rn  >a^a  (7vv£yyi(on^» 
Columna  29.  p.  117. 

REMARK   20. 

Note  57.  Vol.  II.  p.  39. — Ta  mvra. 

So  iEschin.  He^i  HafcxTT^i^.  p.  257.  Taylor.  8vo. 
i^ev  ToJy  mvrciiv  eiTreiv,  us  ye  olfiat,  TrofeAiTov,— quae  quasi 
inhaerent  ipsi  rei.  Vict. 

Mr.  Tyrwhitt's  remark,  that  Aristotle  is  speaking  of 
the  Sentiments,  not  of  the  Diction  or  Language,  is  im- 
portant,    p.  145,     Oi  (xtv  a^^ffiUQi, 

REMARK    21. 

Note  127.  Vol.11,  p.  181. — The  discovery  by 

THE  SOUND  or  THE  SHUTTLE. 

Mr.  Tyrwhitt  understands  by  xt^ui;^  the  web,  telam. 
But  the  many  passages  about  the  musicality  of  the  Kt^uLi — 
(shuttle)  seem  to  be  strong  against  Mr.  T.  and  in  favour 
of  my  conjecture. 

See  Epigram  of  Antip.  Sidon.  Brunck's  Aristoph. 
Vol.  3.  p.  141. 

REMARK   22. 

Note  138.  Vol.  II.  p.  207. — Plato  says  of  a  dog,  &c. 

And  Theocritus,  EiJ.  xt.  v.  80 — 82. 

E/  01  xaa  (p^E^.sg  uh  voi^/icvig  iv3b6r;  riaav 
*HiJ«  ^'  uri  x^  X^^^MVtfASVy  tiTi  xai  ««, 
Oint  ca  rot  Bti^m  tij  ih^i^iv  m^t  Ti/»I^ 


REMARKS. 


465 


REMARK    23. 

Translation,  Vol.1,  p.  154. — Tossed  by  manv 
tempests. 

XsifjLCKrOag,   long-tossed,  weather-beaten^^, 

multum  ille  et  terris  jactatus  et  alto.   iEn.  i .  3. 

^^and,  perhaps, 

Hox^  ^*  hy  Ev  TTOVTU  ^a$£v  oCKyta — Od.  A.  4. 

remark  24. 

Note  149.  Vol.  II.  p.  223. — The  Lynceus  of 
Theodectes. 

Well  observed  by  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  p.  151,  about  Abas 
(the  vou^m) — and  Hyginus,  fab.  170  and  273. 

REMARK    25. 

Note  153.  note  \  Vol.  II.  p.  237. — J  few  ideas,  even 
roughly  thrown  out ^  from  an  artist  of  genius, 

•'  The  knowledge  which  an  artist  has  of  his  subject 
will  more  than  compensate  for  any  want  of  elegance  in 
the  manner  of  treating  it,  or  even  of  perspicuity, 
which  is  more  essential ;  and  I  am  convinced,  that  one 
short  essay,  written  by  a  Painter,  will  contribute  more  to 
advance  the  Theory  of  our  Art,  than  a  thousand  volumes 
such  as  we  sometimes  see ;  the  purpose  of  which  appears 
to  be  rather  to  display  the  refinement  of  the  author's  own 
conceptions  of  impossible  practice,  than  to  convey  useful 
knowledge  or  instruction  of  any  kind  whatever."  Sir 
Jos.  Reynolds's  Disc.  15.  Vol.  II.  p.  186. 

REMARK    26. 

Note  183.  note  ^  Vol,  II.  p.  283. 

See  Malone's  Drydcn,  Vol.  III.  p.  411.  He  uses 
this  metaphor,  probably  without  thinking  of  Homer. 
"  His  succeeding  years  afford  him  little  more  than  the 
stubble  of  his  own  harvest." 

VOL.  II,  H  H  REMARK 


466 


REMARKS. 


REMARK    27. 

Note  214.  Vol.  II.  p.  330. —  Homer   gave   bot» 

THE    FIRST,    Sec. 

Sir  Jos.  Reynolds  savs  of  Titian—"  He  was  the  first 
and  the  greatest  master  of  this  art."  Vol.  II.  p.  50. 

See  Parkhurst's  Gr.  Lex.  a^yv^>a  Uava — large  money. 
Matt,  xxviii.  12.  —  ox>^  *'««v»  —  a  great  number  o! 
people.    Mark  x.  46. 

REMARK    28. 

Note  216.  Vol.  II.  p.  341  — For,  in  this  respect 
ALSO,  the  narrati-ve  imitation  is  abundant, 

AND  various,  beyond  THE  REST. 

Mr.  Tyrwhitt  has  given  a  good  explanation  of  Trs^nm, 
p.  194.  **  H«cc  vox  non  semper  in  malam  partem  acci- 
pitur ;  saepc  autem  earn  ornatus  abundantiam  denotat, 
quae  citra  vitium  summa  est."  But  he  docs  not  account 
for  the  KAi  in  his  mode  of  explainins;.  His  note  docs 
not  satisty  me  tliat  ;'I1  is  right. — I  liiink  this  one  of  nay 
best  conjectural  corrections. 

remark  29. 

Note  220.  Vol.  II.  p.  344. — But  Epic  Poetry 

admits   even    the   improbable   and  incredi- 
ble, 6cc. 

This  passage  nozv  seems  plain  enough.  "  In  Tragedy 
the  wonderful  should  be  produced ;  but  Epic  admits 
better  of  tiie  improbahle  (by  whicli  the  wonderful  is 
chiefly  effected,)  because  there,  vi^e  do  not  see  the  action." 

Mr.  Tyrwhitt*s   version   seems   right.     "  Ac  in  tra- 

goediis  quidem,  id  quod  admirabile  est,  effingere  oportet : 

sed  in  epoposia  magis  licet  id,  quod  praeter  rationem  est, 

^   per  quod  maxime  conlingit  ipsum  admirabile,  quia  non 

intiiemur  agentem."   p.  92. 


i 


REMARK 


467 


REMARK    30. 

Translation,  Vol.1,  p.  iSj.-^In  the  Mysians, 

THE    MAN  WHO    TRAVELS     FROM    TeGEA    TO   MysIA 

Without  speaking. 

For  the  discovery  of  the  subject  of  this  Tragedy,  and 
of  the  cause  of  the  silence  here  censured,  we>are  indebted 
to  the  very  curious  and  masterly  note  of  Mr.  Tyrwhitt.— 
"  Telephum  igitur  avunculos  suos  apud  Tegeam  occidisso 
fortasse  finxcrat  poeta,  et  illinc  mutum  in  Mysiam  rediisse. 
Mos  scilicet  erat  cxdis  alicujus  reum  mutum  restare,  donee 
sacris  quibusdam  expiatoriis  lustraretur."  See  the  wholt 
note,  p.  195,  197. 

REMARK    31. 

Note  224.  Vol.11,  p.  355. — The  absurdity  is 
concealed  under  the  various  beauties,  &c. 

'EyO)  JiE  ^X£OV  iXTTOfJUXl 

Aoyov  *0^u(r(rsof,  h  Tra^sv, 

Aia  Tov  a^uETTn  ytvfcrS*  '0//>jfov. 

'EcTfi  ^ETAEESSIN  01  Trcravx  ye  fxaxavot 
Sf/Ai'ov  ETTen  rt '  aofpia  h 

KAEFITEI  TTot^ayoia-a  fjLudoii,  Find.  Nem.  Z. 

V.  29—34. 

REMARK    32. 

Note  238.  Vol.11,  p.  382. — But,  as  Xenophanes 

SAYS,  &c. 

-—  aXA*  OTN  ^auTi  raJf,  I  am  now  clear  that  this 
emendation,  proposed  by  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  is  solid.  I  had 
made  it  myself  in  MS. 

REMARK    33. 

Note  241.  Vol.  II.  p.  386.  —  When  on  the 
Trojan  plain,  &c, 

Mr.  Tyrwhitt  seems  quite  right  In  his  conjecture  that 
all  the  passages  were  from  11.  K. — I  think  the  objection, 

h  h  2  clearly, 


468 


REMARKS. 


clearly,  was  to  the  contradiction  of  saying,  that  all  Cods 
and  men  were  asleep,  and  at  the  same  time,  tl'.nt  Agamem- 
non heard  the  noise  of  fifes,  &c. — and  saw  the  fii  es,  &c. 

This  explanation'  gets  rid  of  the  solution  of  aO^a-ut^ 
as  mental  vision,  and  also  removes  all  difficulty  about 
S/ua^ov,  and  the  supposed  objection  to  that  line,  considered 
as  a  separate  difficulty. 

I  must  take  the  words — a(Ma  h  '^aiv — into  my  version. 
His  other  conjecture,  Travrs^  o/*«,  is  less  probable. 

REMARK    34. 

Note   242.    Vol.  II.  p.  392. —  0/xa3bf  seems   to  ht 
constantly  used  by  Homer  in  the  secondary  sense. 
But  see  II.  H.  307.  and  O.  689. 

REMARK    35. 

Note  245.  Vol.11,  p.  394.— To  ixtv  OT  xara'jrvkjai 

Alex.  Aphrod.  quoted  by  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  p.  107,  (and, 
in  Latin,  by  Beni,)  makes  the  absurdity  of  5  (where 
rotted)  to  be, — that  part  of  the  same  post  should  be  retted, 
and  part  sound. 

The  difficulty  about  accents  (ibid.),  and  the  passage  of 
Sophocles  Elench.  are  curious. 

REMARK    36. 

Note  269.  Vol.  II.  p.  431. — And  in  singing — * 

I  was  wrong  in  saying  that  singing  out  of  tune  y  was 
the  only  warranted  sense  of  JwJkiv.  See  Mr.  Tyrwhitt  on 
this  passage.  Also  Theoc.  EiJ.  5.  22 ;  and  Valckenaer*$ 
note  on  E*^,  6.  15.  But  my  conjecture  is  still  good,  I 
think. 


INDEX 


{    4^9    ] 


INDEX    L 

OF   POETS,  CRITICS,  PHILOSOPHERS,  &c. 


MENTIONED    BY   ARISTOTLE. 


A. 

iEscHYLUs  -  -  Vol.i.  page  111.  157.  172. 

^^;^^"^ >•  128.  147.  158,  159-— A  Tragic  Poet, 

the  contemporary  of  Socrates,  Euripides,  &c.  A  few 
fragments  only  of  his  w«rks  remain,  which  confirm  the 
account  given  by  antient  writers  of  his  style ;  that  it 
abounded  with  ornamental  refinements,  and  'particularly 
with  antitjmcs.  [See  Mlian,  V,  H.  XIV.  13.  and  AristopL 
Ihcsmoph.  V.  58,  &c.  and  Kuster's  note.]  The  followino 
lines  may  aftbrd  a  pretty  good  specimen  of  his  turn,  both 
of  writing  and  thinking : 

Tix^n  Tvxxv  in^ih  ««»  rv^n  rtxwy. 

Arist.  Ethic,  Nic,  vi.  5, 
To  fxtt  vot^e^ovy  l^yov  «?,  vomfxtQu, 
To  &   tpyotj  ug   ira^i^yov,  ixTrovHiJii^a., 

Athcn,  V.  init. 
See  also  note  156.  (vol.  ii.  p.  24a.)— Grotii  Excerpta 
tx  Irag.  &ic.  p.  437.    Bayle,  Art.  Agathox.    And  Syden- 
ham s  translation  of  the   Sy/^s-ocrtoi*  of  Plato,    (The  Ban- 
quety)  p.  9,  10.  122,  note  96. 

Ariphrades-  -  -  -i.  173.      He   is    known    only  by   the 
wretched  piece  of  prosaic  criticism  there  mentioned. 


ARisTornAXEs 


i.  106 


Astydamas i.  141.    There  were  two  Tragic  Poets 

of  this  name,  father  and  son.  The  former  is  said  to 
have  written  not  fewer  than  240  Tragedies.  Suidas  .-—who 
Las  also  recorded  his  vanity,  art.  Xuvmr  ivoumf, 

* 

C. 

Callippides i.  204.      A  famous  Traeic  actor.    Sec 

Plutarch,  Apophthegm,  Lacon.  p.  376,  ed.^H.  St.  From 
the  story  there  told,  it  seems  probable  enough,  though, 
I  think,  by  no  means  certain,  that  the  proverbial  expres- 
»ion,  Tf«yu^  Wi^K^j   (iV»  TU9  9ra^'  «{»«»  2EMNTNOME- 

«  "  3  Nn>f, 


470 


INDEX       I. 


NflN,  Suid.  avd  Hesijch.)  fnight,  as  it  lias  been  supposed? 
have  originally  alluded  to  the  vanity  of  this  actor,  in  the 
Symposium  ot"  Xenophon,  when  the  buffoon,  Philip,  is 
asked  —  £w»  Tw  ytXairairoiiii  fAtyac,  ^^ohk  >  —  be  answers, 
tiixocioTs^ov  y'^blofjisn,  n  KAAAIIirJIAHI^  o  t-wox^tr*)?,  oq  TFIEP- 
ZEMNYNETAI  ot»  ^jj»urxi  TroXXw;  xXowoyTa^-  xa0»fu».  p.  880,  ed. 
Jjcunclaxii. — Jt  seems  much  more  doubtful,  whether  the 
passages  referred  to  by  Ducier,  in  Suetonius,  Tibtr.  cap.  38. 
and  Cic.  ad  Attic,  lib,  xiii,  ep,  12,  have  the  same  allusion. 

Carcinus  -  -  Vol.  i.  page  148.  151.  Of  this  Tragic  Poet 
only  a  few  trifling  lines  are  preserved.  What  Suidas  says  of 
him  gives  us  no  very  high  idea  of  his  genius  ;  viz.  that, 
of  160  Tragedies  which  he  composed,  one  only  obtained 
the  prize  in  the  dramatic  contests. 

Cn.f.REMON  -  -  -  -  i.  104.  181. —  See  note  11.  (vol.  i. 
p.  254.)  For  the  passage  there  mentioned,  and  other 
fragments,  the  reader  may  also  see  Grotii  Excerpt  a ,  p.  845, 
and  Sir  William  Jones's  Poes.  Asiat.  Comment,  p.  408. 

CiiiONiDEs i.  107.     One  of  the  earliest  and  most 

eminent  Athenian  Poets  of  the  old  Corned}'.     Suidas. 

Clf.ophon  -----  i.  105.  170.  See  note  14.  (vol.  i. 
p.  263.) 

Crates  — i.  114.     He  is  said  to  have  flourished 

about  12  or   15  years  before  Aristophanes;  of  course,  in 
the  time  of  the  old  Comedy.  f 

D. 

Dic-EOGENES i.  149.    Tragic  and  Dithyrambic  Poet. 

Suid. 

DioNYSius i.  105.     See  note  12.  (vol.  i.  p.  257.) 

and  the  additions  and  corrections  (vol.  ii.  p.  454.) 

E. 

Kmpedocles  -  -  -  -  i.  103.  167,  196.  The  Sicilian  Poet- 
philosopher,  contemporary  with  Sophocles.  See  notes  8 
luid  9  (vol.  i.  p.  248,  and  249)  and  p.  \g6f  note  4.  He  is 
often  quoted  by  Aristotle,  and  many  fragments  of  his 
.  Poetry  are  preserved  in  various  antient  authors.  See  Diog. 
La/rt.  in  vttd :  the  Poesis  Philosophica  of  H.  Stephens,  &c. 

Epiciiarmvs-  -  -  -  i.  107.  114. —  of  Syracuse,  a  philoso' 
pJiical  and  a  comic  Poet.  The  names  of  40  of  his  Comedies 
are  recorded,  and  a  considerable  number  of  fragments  from 
them,  and  some  from  his  philosophical  poetry,  are  extant. 
Se«  Grotii  Exccrpta,  cind  the  Poes,  Philos,  of  H.  Stephens. 

5  Euclid, 


INDEX      I. 


471 


Euclid  -  —  ■•  Vol.  i.  psige  171.  Of  what  Euclid  Aristotle 
speaks,  it  seems  impobuible  to  .iscertain.  Victorias  says, 
he  is  here  called  the  old  Euclid^  to  distinguish  him  from 
Euclid  the  philosopher,  the  disciple  of  Soc rates,  and  foun- 
der of  thft  Megaric  sect.  [Diog.  Laert  in  litd.]  But  as  ;hat 
Euclid  flourished,  according  to  the  common  account,  about 
60  years  before  Aristotle,  he  might  well  enough  be  called 
Q  i^x^^^f  ^'^^^  there  is  certainly  no  improuHbiUty  in  sup- 
posing a  cavillin;.;  logician  to  have  been  also  a  cavilling 
critic.     See  Diog.  Laert.  and  Bayle,  art.  Euclide. 

Euripides     -    -    -     i.  137.  140.  150.  153.  172.  191.  201. 

G. 

Glauco  ------  i.  199.     Whether  this  was  Glauco  the 

Teian  mentioned  by  Aristotle,  Rhet.  HI.  i,  as  Dacier 
asserts  after  Uobortelli,  is  very  uncertain. —  I  know  not 
why  Goulston,  in  his  version,  calls  him  *•  Glauco  Sophista." 

H. 

Hegemon -  i.  105.     See  note  15.  (vol.  i.  p.  264.) 

Herodotus    -        -        -.-        -        -        -         i.  127 

H I ppi AS,  of  T^a«05  -  i.  196. — known,  I  believe,  only  from 
this  mention  of  him. 

Homer  ^- i.  103.  105,  106.  109.  125.  147.  171. 

177-  ^79-  182,  183.  186. 

Magnes i.  107.     An  Athenian  Poet  of  the  old 

Comedy.     Suidas. 

Mnasitiieus i.  204. — of  whom    nothing    more    is 

known. 

Myniscus  —  -  —  i.  204.  I  do  not  know  that  he  is  any 
where  else  mentioned,  except  by  Athenaeus,  who  calls  him 
*'  the  Tragic  actor,  Mi/niscusy'  and  gives  him  an  honour- 
able place  in  his  Memoirs  of  Gluttony,  lib.  viii.  p.  344, 

N. 

Nicocharis  (or  Nicochares)  i.  106.  In  note  16.  (vol.  i. 
p.  266),  I  have,  with  Dacier  and  others,  supposed  him  to 
be  the  Athenian  Comic  Poet,  contemporary  with  Aristo- 
phanes. [Suidas.]  But  this  seems  doubtful.  Victorius 
thinks,  with  some  reason,  that  Aristotle  added,  •  t»j» 
^)}^lal«,  in  order  to  distinguish  him  from  that  Voat.  And, 
farther,  he  is  here  instancing  in  narrative  or  Epic  Poetry, 
and  the  Dcliad  was  certamly  a  poem  of  that  kmd.  But  no 
such  Poem  is  attributed  to  Nicochares  the  Comic  Poet. 

H  n  4  Pauson, 


47^ 


INDEX      L 


Pausoy  -  -  -  -  Vol.  i.  page  105.  See  note  12.  (vol.  L 
P-  255.  257-  '260). 

PiiiLoxENUs  -  -  •  -  i.  106.— of  Cythera,  contemporary  with 
Plato ;  a  Tragic  and  Dithyranibi^  P(k>i,  famous  for  hit 
musical  innovations,  his  jokes,  and  his  gluttony.  See 
Dr.  Burney's  Hist,  of  Music,  vol.  i.  ;;.  418,  &,c.—Metn.  de 
tAaul  des  Inscrip.  'tome  xix.  p.  315,  otYaro.— But  there 
v/ere  several  persons  of  the  same  name,  and,  unfortunately, 
of  similar  character,  who  appear  to  have  been  confounded 
with  each  other,  even  by  antient  writers  themselves.  Se« 
Perizonius,  JElian.  V.  Hist.  X.  9. 

Phormis  [Piiqrmos,  Athen.  and  Said.]  i.  114.  A  Sicilian 
Comic  Poet  contemporary  with  Epicharmus. 

Polygxotus-  -  -  -  i.  105.  119.  —  See  note  12.  (vol.  i. 
p.  o55.)_piiny,  N.  Hist.  )ib.  xxxv.  cap.  9.— .^lian, 
F.  Hist.  IV.  3.  where  Perizonius  points  out,  as  some  illus- 
tration of  the  passage  of  Aristotle,  cited  note  12.  vol.  i. 
P-  255,  a  picture  of  this  painter,  mentioned  by  Pausanias, 
On  PhocicisJ  which  represented  the  punishment  of  an 
undutiful  son  in  the  infernal  regions. 

PoLYiDEs,  Me.So/?Awf,  i.  150.  153.— does  not  occur,  that  I 
know  of,  any  where  else.  The  title  of  Sophist  seejms  suf- 
ficiently to  distinguish  him,  if  the  name  does  not,  (for  in 
some  MSS.  it  is  n«AunJoL,)  from  Polyidus  the  Dithyrambic 
Poet,  Musician,  and  Painter,  mentioned  by  Diodur.Siculus, 
[lib.  xiv.]  and  Efj/moL  Mag.  voce  AtX«k. 

Protagoras  -  -  -  -  i.  161.  See  note  165.  (vol.  ii.  p.  256.) 

S. 

Sophocles-  -  -  -  -  i.  106.  112.  141.  146.  149.  151.  158. 
191.  206. 

SopHRON, i.  103.     This  famous  Sicilian  Poet  was 

contemporary  with  Euripides.  He  wrote  Mimes,  some  for 
male,  and  others  for  female  characters,  in  the  Doric  dia- 
lect. Some  very  obscure  fragments  are  preserved  by  De- 
metrius, Athenaeus,  &c.  See  note  6.  (vol.i.  p.  244  to'247). 

Sosistratus  -  -  -  -  i.  204.    A  rhapsodist. 

Sthenelus  -  -  -  -  i.  170.  See  note  194.  (vol.  ii.  p.  301.) 
He  is  mentioned,  I  believe,  only  by  Aristotle,  and  by 
Harpocration,  who  records  liim  as  a  Tragic  Poet  of  the 
age  of  Pericles,  and  says^,  that  he  was  accused  of  plagia- 
jism. 

Theopectes, 


INDEX      I. 


473 


T. 

Tiieodectes -- Vol.  i.  page  150.  154.  A  Rhetorician,  of 
Phaselis  in  Lycia;  the  scholar  of  Plato  and  Isocrates.  He  is 
said  to  have  composed  50  Tragedies,  and  an  Art  of  Rhetoric 
in  verse.  He  is  frequently  mentioned  by  Aristotle,  Dion. 
Halicarn.  Quintilian,  &c.  His  fellow  citizens  erected  a 
statue  to  his  memory.  See  Pint,  in  vitd  Alexandria  p.  1236, 
ed.  H.  S.  Only  a  few  trifling  fragments  of  his  works 
remain. 

Timotheus  -  -  -  -  i.  106.  See  note  17.  (vol.  i.  p.  267.) 
The  famous  Poet-musician  of  Miletus,  contemporary  with 
Euripides.  He  was  banished  by  the  Spartans  for  im- 
proving a  musical  instrument  by  the  addition  of  a  few 
strings,  which  they  called  ''dishonouring  the  antient  Music" 
and  "  corrupting  the  cars  of  youth ;"  —  Xy^«t»jTat  ra? 
axoa?  ru9  nut.  The  words  of  this  curious  decree  are  pre- 
served by  lioethius.  See  Casaub.  in  Athen,  p.  613,  or 
page  66,  67,  of  the  Oic.  ed.  of  Aratus.  The  reader  will  find 
a  full  and  entertnining  account  of  Timotheus  in  Dr.  Burney's 
Hist,  of  Music,  vol.i.  p,  405. 

Tyndarus  [al.  Pindarus]  i.  204. — An  Actor,  clearly;  but 
we  know  nothing  farther. 

X. 

Xenarchus  -  -  -  -  i.  103.  A  Comic  Poet,  of  whom  the 
reader  may  see  a  pleasant  fragment  in  Athen.  p.  225,  de- 
scribing a  curious  trick  practised  by  the  Athenian  fish- 
mongers to  evade  the  law  by  which  they  were  forbid  to 
pour  water  upon  their  stale  fish  in  order  to  make  them 
appear  fresh.     See  Grotii  Excerpta  ex  Trag.  &c.  p.  697. 

Xenophanes i.  101.     The  Colophonian,  eminent  in 

the  class  of  philosophical  Poets,  or,  rather,  poetical  philo- 
sophers, about  the  time  of  Pythagoras.  See  note  238. 
(vol.  ii.  p.  382.)— Diog.  Laert.  IX.  18.— Bayle,  art.  Xeno- 
phanes. 

Z. 

Zkuxis i.  119.  200.     The  famous  painter.  Set 

the  note  p.  aoo,  and  note  254.  (vol.  ii.  p.  405). 


INDEX 


[    474    ] 


I  N  D  E  X    II. 

TO   THE   DISSERTATIONS   AND    NOTES. 


A. 

Accents,  no  term  applied  to  them  by  Aristotle  but  acute, 
and^rare vol.  ii.  page  261 

Achilles,  how  characterized  by  Euripides,  ii.  167.— by 
Homer,  168.— by  Plato,  169.— by  Dr.  Jortin     -     -     ibid. 

Acts,  five  -  -  no  such  division  applicable  to  the  Greek 
drama  -         - j]   ^^ 

Actors,  Greek,  played  female  parts,  i.  205,  w.  ii.  434— 
contended  for  the  prize  in  the  dramatic  contests,  ii.  68, 6g, 

—their  influence   over  the  Poets,   69 their   dress  and 

^g"^^ 340,  and  n. 

Actresses,  not  admitted  on  the  Greek  stage,  i.  63,  n.  205,  n. 

-A^"*/*** -         -         ii.  366,  n. 

Aiixuf,  AitxeAi'^  -         -         -         -         -      ii.  318, 319 

/Elian,  of  descriptive  imitation,  i.  14,  n.  54. — his  account 

of  the  paintings  of  Dionysius  mistaken  by  Dacier,  257. 

of  the  infant  sUte  of  pamting,  285,  «.— quoted    -  ii.  438 

iEsCHYLUs,  not  said  by  Aristotle  to  have  diminished  the 
number  of  choral  performers,  i.  294— curious  account  of 
his  stage-improvements,  298.— his  chorus  of  50  furies, 
ii.  119.— his  Ocean  riding  on  a  Griifm,  120.— his  Prome- 
theus, 211.— an  expression  of  his  illustrated,  290. — his 
diction ^^. 

Agatho,  a  fragment  of    -        -         -  -         .         jj^  242 

Aii^X^Qv,  its  wide  signification   -         -  -         -  i.  321 

A>x»»tf  uirohoy<^,  to   what  books  of  the  Odyssey   that  title 

-         -         '         -  -         ii.  184— -186 


extended    - 
Aft»^T»a,  'AfAu^nfjLocTa 
A/A^»/3oX»«,  Aristotle's  sense  of 
A/a^tfA«»,  Dithyrambic — what 


ii.  108,  109 

ii-397 
i.  272 

A*«Aoy»«, 


INDEX      II.  475 

AtaXcyxUf  Aristotle's  definition  of    -        -        -      ii.  283,  n, 

Antients,  not  to  be  read  with  modern  ideas     -    •    i.  224 

Arrnt^y,  whether  used  by  Aristotle  to  denote  opposition  of 
meaning -         ii.  ^03 

Avt^yaartoi .-  i.  288 

A9rowAa?  -  -  -  -  -  -  _  ii.  161 

Awo  crxr»)jf,  ot,  or  T«  -  -  -  -  -  ii,  100 

Architecture,  absurdity  of  classing  it  with  the  imitative 
arts  -         -         -         -         -        -         .         -         i.  92, «. 

AfX»T«xTonx»)    ---->_-  ii.  055 

A^ya  fjLtfn  -         .         -         -         .         i.  186,  w.  ii.  356 

Ariosto,  unity  of  his  Poem,  of  what  kind,  i.  i26,n.  178,  n, 
— ^tv^rj  Xiyn  &»?  dtt  -  •  -  -  .  ii,  o  c  § 

Aristjdes  Quintiliaxus,  his  account  of  the  Greek 
*A^fjkouai,  i.  80,  «. — confirms  a  reading  of  Aristotle,  ii.  260. 
-^quoted,  i.  228,  n. — illustrates  Aristotle     -     ii.  253,  254 

Aristophanes,  i.  301,  w.— (or  Antiphanes)  a  fragment  of, 
ii.  42.— ridicules  the  prolixity  of  the  Tragic  chorus,  i.  295. 
— a  fragment   of,   explained   by  a  passage   of  Aristotle, 

ii.  302,  303 

Aristotle,  has  no  where  said  that  all  Poetry  is  imi- 
tation, i.  35,  n. — in  what  senses  he  considered  Poetry  as 
imitation,  36,  37.  58.— takes  no  notice  either  of  sonorous 
or  descriptive  imitation,  and  why,  39,  40.  54,  55. — infe- 
riority of  that  part  of  his  work,  which  treats  of  diction,  55. 
ii.  257,  258. — how  far  he  would  have  allowed  an  Epic 
imitation  in  prose  to  be  a  Poem,  i.  232.  ii.  61.— by  no 
means  excluded  verse  from  his  idea  of  Poetry,  i.  236.  289. 
—his  preference  i)i  Dramatic  Poetry,  i.  58,  59.  ii.  449. 
451.— has  not  fully  stated  the  comparative  merits  of  Dra- 
matic and  Epic  Poetry,  i.  59,  and  w.— held  pleasure  to  be 
the  chief  end  of  Poetry,  ii.  448,  449.— his  doctrine  of  the 
purgation  of  the  passions  by  Tragedy,  an  answer  to  the 
objections  of  Vlat^,  ii.  14.  16*.— his  advice  to  the  Tragic 
Poet,  to  assist  his  imagination  by  action,  in  composing, 
considered,  ii.  198.—  scope  of  his  chapter  on  Critical 
Objections,  &c.  i.  188,  w.— free  from  an  error  common  to 
philosophical  critics,  ii.  56.— his  style  often  elliptic,  paren- 
thetical, and  embarrassed,  i.  218.  .179.  ii.  58,  59.  157.  227, 

and  «.   237.  272. does   not  assert,   in  general,   that 

Music  is  an  imitative  art,  i.  91.— his  account  of  mtsical 
imitation,  i.  69,  70.— what  he  understood  by  the  resem- 
blance of  melody  and  rhythm  to  manners,  or  tempers, 
i.  79—87. — a  musical  problem  of  his  corrected,  trans- 
lated, 


47<5 


INDEX      ir. 


lated,  and  examined,  i.  82 — 87. — his  rhetoric  quoted^ 
i.  239.  329,  and  n.  ii.  33.  69.  82.  106.  124,  125.  164,  n. 
166.  184.  198.  201.  210,  n. — (of  the  Ethic  and  Pathetic 
Tragedy)  231,  232,  n.  281.  284.  286. — (of  the  language 
of  passion)  358,  359.  314.  316.  321.  410.— (of  the  dis- 
appointment of  the  ear  by  the  abrupt  conclusion  of  a 
period)  443. — explained,  i.  272.  ii.  263. — translated,  i.  280. 
286,  287.  ii.  297.  326,  327.  352.— his  Ethics  quoted, 
i.  278.  ii.  48.  61.  68.  So.  97.  107,  108.283,^.430. — 
his  PoLiT.  i.  70.  79.  81.  225,  n.  255.  ii.  5—9.62.  422. 
441.  445. — METAPHTfs.  i.  289.  ii.  55.  81. — De  Soph. 
Elench.  i.  264.  ii.  262.  393. — Topic,  ii.  59.  268.  291. 
372.  402. — De  Interpret,  ii.  272 — 275.  408. — De 
WuNDo,  431. — De  Hist.  Animal,  ii.  137. — Problems, 
i.  82.  269.  271.  283.  294.  li.  100.  244.  343 

Aristoxenus,  of  the  melody  of  speech,  i.  77,  n. — of  the 
effect  of  passion  upon  it,  78,  n. — of  the  essential  difference 
between  singing  and  speaking       -         -         ibid,  ii.  92,  tu 

A^fjLotia,  melody^  not  harmony ^  i.  314,  n. — A$xt»x»)       -        314 

A^f*o»ta»,  or  Melodies,  of  the  Greeks,  not  the  same  with 
their  Toi»o»,  or  Modes  -         -         -         -         i.  80,  n. 

Athenians,  their  immoderate  fondness  for  dramatic  exhi- 
bitions      ii.  53,  54.  339 

Audience,  Athenian— eat  and  drank  during  the  perform- 
ance - ii.  339,  340 

AuLLi  Gellius,  his  story  oiFolus  the  Tragic  actor,  ii.434 

B. 

Bach,  C.  P.  Eman.  his  choral  recitative  -        ii.  89,  n. 

Bacon,  Lord    -------         ii.  34 

Batteux,  his  explanation  of  Dithyrambic  imitation,  i.  212, 
213.  — of  Aristotle*s  dramatic  xaGa^fl-*; 


ii.  11 — 16 


Beattie,  Dr.  his  mistake  with  respect  to  a  passage  of 
Rousseau,  i.  7,  n. — his  Minstrel,  18. — of  the  relation 
between  musical  sounds  and  mental  affections,  71,  n. — his 
objections  to  the  principle  of  resemblance  to  pathetic 
speech  in  pathetic  music,  considered,  88,  n. — on  the  power 
of  association  in  music,  90,  n,  225,  n. — of  the  difference 
between  moral  and  poetical  perfection,  105,  n. — his  ac- 
count of  a  passage  of  Plato,  240,  n. — his  explanation  of 
Aristotle's  account  of  the  ridiculous,  323. — his  just  ana- 
lysis of  the  character  of  Homer's  Achilles,  ii.  170. — on 
the  language  of  Tragedy  -        -        -         -         324 

Beauty, 


INDEX      II.  477 

Beauty,  size  and  strength  essential  to  it,  according  to  the 
ideas  of  the  antients,  ii.  47 — 51. — male  and  female, 
Aristotle*s  idea  of  it      -         -         -         -         -         48,  49 

Beginning,  middle,  and  end — Aristotle's  definition  of  them 
applied  and  liiustratcd       -         -         -         -         ii.  41 — 47 

Bell,  the  sound  of  it  affected  by  its  swinging      -     i.  20,  w. 

Ben  I,  his  commentary  on  Aristotle  quoted,  ii.  51.  234.  562,  w. 

BXai3f^o»  -        -        -        -        -        -        ii.  411, 412 

Blackwell  -         -        -         -        -        -        -      i.  65,  n. 

BoiLEAU,  a  famous  imitative  line  of  his  examined,  i.  11,  a. 
—  quoted  -         -         -         -         -         -         ii.  84.  302,  n. 

Bossu,  Le,  called,  with  little  reason,  Aristotle s  best  inter- 
prefer,  ii.75.  131. — misquotes  Aristotle's  text,  i.  35,  w. — ' 
his  idea  of  Episodes,  examined,  i.  3i5»3i6,3i7,3i8,  n. — his 
mistaken  notion  of  Aristotle's  simple  fable,  ii.  74. — his 
absurd  interpretation  of  %frr»  »i0»),  131. — his  defence  of 
Homer's  mean  words,  302,  n. — his  idea  of  Hamer's  pur^ 
pose  in  composing  his  Poems  -         -         448,  449,  n, 

Brumoy,  his  indiscreet  way  of  vindicating  the  antients  from 
the  charge  of  Tragi-comedy,  i.  306. — his  apology  for  the 
bloody  exhibition  of  Oedipus  in  Sophocles         -         ii.  84 

Burgess,  Mr.  -  -  -  his  rational  account  of  Homer's 
language      -         -         -         -         -         -         -  ii.  309,  n. 

Burke,  Mr.   -        -        •        -        -        -        ii.  198,  199 

BuRNEY,  Dr.  of  the  power  of  instrumental  Music,  i.  75,  n, 
— of  the  old  German  Comedy,  ii.  121,  w.— his  translation 
of  the  hymn  of  Dionysius  to  the  Sun,  2^3,  n, — of  the 
melody  of  the  antient  declamation  -        -        26,  n, 

C. 

Callimachus,  his  hymns         -        -        -        -        i.  2ii 

Campbell,  Dr.  his  explanation  of  Aristotle's  account  of  the 
ridiculous,  i.  323—325. — of  metaphors  converted  by  fami- 
liar use  into  j^roper  terms       -         -         -         -         ii.  278 

Casaubon,  Isaac  -         -         -        -         -     i.  41,  n.  309,  n. 

Cases  -        -        -        -        -        -         --i.  164,  w. 

Castelvetro,  a  transposition  of  his  adopted,  ii.32,  33,  n. — 
conjectural  emendations  of,  198.  249. — a  curious  illustra- 
tion of  his,  281. — his  explanation  of  uva\oyov  in  cop.  xxiv. 
345,  n. — of   a^y*  /^*r»»   356«— his   commentary  quoted, 
i»  38,  n.  341,  n.  ii.  69.  311.  330.  439.  45Q. 

Catullus ii.  42i,». 

Ceciua> 


Chaucer 


478  INDEX      II. 

Cecilia         -------        ii.  242 

Ch.=eremon,  his  poetical  character,  i.  254,  255. — his  C«i- 
taur -         -         il'id. 

not    ujed   transithclyy    nor  synonymous    with 

ii.  ^03 — 208 

ii.  116,  117 

-         -         -         -         ii.  203.  205,  and  n, 

CuoEPiiOR.t  -  -  -  the  Tragedy  of  that  name  men- 
tioned by  Aristotle,  (vol.  i.  p.  150.)  probably  not  that  of 
iEschylus ii.  188,  189 

Choragi    -        -         -        -        -         -        -         i.  138,  If. 

Xf^  ^oAjxtix^    -         -         -         -         -         -         •     ii.  89 

Chorus,  antient  dramatic,  its  gradual  extinction,  i.  159,  «. — 
its  prolixity,  295. — persons  of,  speak  of  themselves  in  the 
singular  number,  even  in  the  Odes,  where  they  sing 
together,  ii.  95,  «• — its  visible  number  sometimes  filled  up 
by  the  admifjsion  of  mutes,  98. — its  entrance,  a  shewy  and 
expensive  part  of  the  Greek  drama,  97.— in  vhat  sense 
required  by  Aristotle  to  be  a  sharer  in  the  action     -     244 

X^tjra  ^6*> "•  >3i 

X^^jr®- "-134 

Chromatic,  and  Enharmonic,  melody  of  the  Greeks,  imi- 
tative of  speech      -         -         -         -         -         -         i-  76 

Cicero,  i.  233,  n.  272.  ii.  70,  n.  420,  n.— his  account  of 
the  ridicuiou^,  agreeing  with  Aristotle's,  i.  327.  —his  ora- 
tions, compared  with  those  of  Dem«>siht»  es,  illustrate 
Arisiutle's  distinction  of  the  rhetorical  and  political 
styles,  ii.  38,  «.-  of  poetic  enihusiasm,  or  genius,  ii.  210. 
— illustrates  a  passage  of  Aristotle  -         -         ii.  264 

Circumflex  accent,  called  grare  by  Aristotle,  ii.  262,  and;?. 
— whether  distinguished,  in  his  time,  by  any  appropriated 

term 263,  and  «. 

Clarissa         -        -  -        -        -       ii.  103. 242 

Cleophov,  his  poetical  character  -         i.  263.  ii.  301 

Comedy,  Old  and  Middle,  what  we  call  Farce,  i.  29a. — 
their  object  was  the  laughable  m  grucrul        -       326,  327 

Comedy,  usual  intricacy  of  its  first  scenes,  ii.  41,42. — a 
disadvaniage  of  it,  compared  with  Tragedy  -         42 

Condillac  -        -        -        -        -        -         ii.  20,  n. 

Contests,  Dramatic,  of  the  Greeks,  their  variety,  ii.  339»34o 

Crespiiontes* 


INDEX      II. 


479 


CRESPIT0^^TEs,  of  Kuripidcs,  the  discovery  in  it,  in  what  view 
admired  by  Aristotle      -         -         -         -         ii.  129^  130 

Criticism,  "philosophical,  a  common  mistake  of,    i,  8,  n.  ii.  56 

('yclops  of  Euripides,  a  singular  circumstance  relative  to  it, 

i.  311,  312 

D. 

Dacier,  his  mistake  relative  to  the  Old  and  Middle 
Comedy,  i.  335.— his  strange  assertion  lelative  to  ihe 
comtanf  observation  of  the  unities  of  time  and  place  in  the 
Greek  Tragedies,  342. — his  idea  of  Aristotle's  simple 
fable,  ii  74. — his  absurd  explanation  and  false  translation 
of  a  passage  in  Aristotle,  131,  132,  and  n. — his  absurd  ac- 
count of  tlie  number  of  Greek  Tragedies  performed  in  a 
^^y»   334 — 336- — says  the  Iliad  may  be  read  in  a  day, 

337>  338 

D'Alembert  -  i.  68,  n, — makes  Architecture  an  imi- 
tative art        -------       92, «. 

Dance,  Pantomimic  -----       i.  226 

Dancer,  Pantomimic,  his  necessary  accomplishments,  ac- 
cording to  Lucian  >         -         _         -  ii.  428,  «. 

Dante,  his  description  of  the  mingled  sounds  of  his  In- 
ferno      i,  18 

D'Aubignac,  of  perfect  dramatic  conclusions,    ii.  46,  and  «. 

Demetrius,  (n«f»  '£^/x.)  i.  307,  and  n.  ii.  31,  «.  89,  71.— of 
the  analogical  metuphor  -         -         -         -  28^ 

Description,  vihtn  imitative,  i.  13.— not  to  be  confounded 
with  expression  -----.  .j^q 

Description,  tff«Vflr/ire— of  visible  objects,  i.  13. —  of  sounds 
15 — 21. — of  mental  objects,  immediate,  or  by  their  sen- 
sible effects,  22 — 27. —  not  all  exact  and  minute  descrip- 
tion, imitative  -         -         -     .    -         -         41,  42^  n. 

Description,  local  and  picturesque — the  remarkable  inferi- 
ority of  the  antients  to  the  moderns  in  such  description 
stated,  and  its  cause  conjectured         -         -  i.  44 — 54 

AtcTi?,  rnrud,  complication       -         -         -         -     ii.  221,  222 

Lictouv  --  -  -  -  -  -  -      ii.431 

Dialogue  of  the  Greek  Tragedy,  to  what  sort  of  melody  it 
was  probably  set      -         -         -         -         -         -       ii.  26 

Akx^c^i*       -         -         -         -         -         -         -         -ii.312 

Diction,  Tragic,  ii.  321,  322,  and  n. — Aristotle's  idea  of  its 
perfection,  326. — sketch  of  its  history  in  his  Rhetoric,  327 


it 


Ii 


A 


480  INDEX      II. 

Ai^cKfycuXta  -------      ii.  248 

Ai^a<7xni»  r^xyu^iatf  origin  of  that  expression  -         -     ii,  255 

Diderot,  ii.  243. — of  the  Andria  of  Terence,  44,  n. — illus- 
trates a  precept  of  Anstotle,  i.  152,  w. — of  the  difliculty  of 
planning  a  drama     -         -         -         -         -         -ri.  34 

Dignity,  modern  Tragic,  not  to  be  found  in  the  Greek 
Tragedy  -         -         -        i.  299— 311.  ii.  31.  82.  148 

Diogenes  Laertius,  of  the  Tetralogice        -        -     ii.  333 

DiONYsius,  of  HalicarnassuSy  his  account  of  the  regularity 
and  simplicity  i)(  the  old  Dithyrambic,  i.  jyo. — of  the 
melody  of  the  Parode  m  the  Orestes  of  Euripides,    ii.  89, 90 

DiONYsius,  the  painter        -----      i.  257 

DiONYsius,  a  fine  passage  of  his  Hj^mn  to  the  Swn,       ii.  293 

Disaster  -        -        -        --        -        -        -ii.  81 

Discovery,  of  Joseph  by  his  brethren,  i.  132,  n. — of  Tele- 
machus  by  Menelaus,  in  the  Odyssey,  ii.  183. — in  the 
Chuephoras  of  iEschylus,  examined,  i85.  188. — between 
Merope  and  her  son  in  the  Cresphovies  of  Euripides — 
Aristotle's  view  of  it,  120,  130. — its  effect  upon  the 
audience  decribed  by  Plutarch  -         -         -  130 

Discoveries,  various,  in  the  Odyssey  -         -  i.  180,  n. 

Dithyrambic  Poetry,  how  imitative^  i.  209— 214. — not 
orignally  so,  but  of  a  simple  form,  in  regular  stanzas,  and 
set  to  the  simplest  melody,  269. — how  it  became  inaitative, 
refined,  and  complicated     -----         270 

DocERE  fabulam         ----•_    ii.  255 

Dog,  a  philosophical  animal,  according  to  Plato     *      i.  283 

DoMENiCHiNO  -  -  -  in  painting,  practised  a  precept  of 
Aristotle      -------         ii.  199 

Dramatic,  or  personativey  Poetry,  imitation,  in  the  strict 
sense  of  the  word       -         -         -         -         -  i«  3 1 ,  33 

Dramatic  System  of  the  antient?,  upon  u  large  scale,  ii.  340 

Drunken  men,  exhibition  of  ihem  on  ihe  stUji^e,  an  improve- 
ment of  ^Esch^lus     ------      i.  298 

Dryden,  misrepresents  Aristotle,  i.  281.  ii.  441,  442. — read 
him  only  in  translations     -         -        -  i.  2S1,  and  n, 

Du  Bos,  his  absurd  idea  of  the  declamation  of  the  antient 
Tragedy,  ii.  19,  20. — his  strange  e.\planation  of  a  passage 
of  Aristotle     -        -        -        -        -        -        -      27, ». 


£cno> 


INDEX      II. 


E. 


4S1 


Echo,  of  sound  to  sense       -         -        - 
Hh  ------ 

Eti^ep^ea^cci  -  -  _  -  _ 

ExwXijIk*  Aristotle's  definition  of  it, 

Emendations  conjectural,  suggested,  of  Aristotlt:,  i.83. 
226.  231.  280,  w.  294.  327.  528.  336.  ii.9.  59.  67.  i6i. 
166.  174.  203.  241.  249.  280.  288.  314.  319.  329.  342. 


i.253.  ii-329 

-  ii.  354 

-  ii.372 


360.  366,  367.  398.  406.  408.  431.  - 
of  .^sciiylus           -         -  - 

of  ArISTIDES  QUINTILIANUS  - 

of  Plato          -        -        -  - 

^  of  Plutarch           -        -  - 


438 
ii.  290,  n. 

'     ii-254 

i.234,  ff. 

-     ii.105 

Empedocles,  his  two  physical  principles  of  friendship  and 
strife,  i.  196,  n. — a  quotation  from  him  explained,  ibid. — 
his  philosopliical  Poetry,  248. — his  diction  ailowed  by 
Aristotle  to  be  Homeric     _         -         -        •        -         250 

^vct^nx       -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -    i.  44,  w. 

Evx^yni         -  -  -  -  -  ...  -      ii.  436 

Enharmonic  intervals  of  the  Greeks imitations  of 

speech, -.i.y(5 

Epic  Poem,  Aristotle's  rule  for  the  length  of  it,  considered, 
ii-  33* — 339* — what  was  his  idea  of  its  proper  fw^,  451. — 
its  merits  and  defects  compared  with  Tragedy,  451 — 453. 
• — now  and  then  approaches  to  the  ludicrous         -*  453,  w. 

Epicharmus,  philosophized  in  Trochaics,  i.  249.— his  ludi- 
crous description  of  the  voracity  of  Hercules       -     304,  n. 

Evismnct,     -         -         -         -         -         -    ii.  162  and  164,  n. 

E^uixtK.  ot,  -------     ii.430 

Episode,  in  what  senses  used  by  Aristotle,  i.  315—318. 
ii.  216,  217.— how  it  came  to  signify  an  incidental  and 
digressive  story,  i.  31S,  319.— Epic  and  Tragic,  their  dif- 
ference  -         -         -         -         -         -        -         -i.  318 

Epithets,  negative,  frequent  in  the  Greek  Poets     -     ii.  295 

EpopoEiA  -  -  -  difficulty  of  admitting  Aristotle  to  have 
proposed  the  application  of  that  term  to  Mimes  and 
Dialogues,       ------     i.  241 — 244 

Eratosthenes,  his  just  idea  of  the  end  of  Poetry,  ii.  449,  n, 

Ernestus,    his    interpretation    of   two   words  in   Homer, 

i.  2f,i>.  ii.50 

▼  OL.  II.  Ii  £6^ 


! 


;il^ 


If 


4«i  I    N    D    E    X      11. 

E0d*  XiJca;;  -------     ii.  398 

H9*i,  dispositions,  tempers    -        -        -        -        -    i.7o,n. 

HS^,  h9w^  -----  in  what  sense  applied  by  Aristotle  to 
Tragedy^  i.  155,  w.  ii.  231. — opposed  to  ir«60'  and  waDq- 
TixO'  -        -        -        -        -      ii.  3i,n.  226)  and n. 

EuBULUs,  fragment  of  a  Comedy  of  his         -         -     ii.  138 

Euclid,  illustrates  Aristotle  -        -         -     [[,  265,  266 

Ev^ytj?,       -..-----     ii.  209 

Euripides,  Aristotle's  censure  of  his  Choral  Odes,  i.  158,  n. 
— a  passage  of,  proving  the  licentiousness  of  antient 
painting,  256. — sometimes  familiar,  and  Tragi-comic, 
301.  303.  305.  307. — his  Prologues,  329. — h^  of  his 
Tragedies,  ii.  31. — did  not  observe  the  French  rule, 
**  de  ne  pas  ensanglanicr  ie  Theatre^  85.— :i  passage,  in  his 
Jphig.  in  Taur.  considered,  101, «.— his  powers  not  confined 
to  emotions  of  tenderness  and  pity,  1 10. — two  fine  passages 
in  his  Medea  and  ElectrOy  110,  111.— his  character  of 
Achilles,  167. — his  Tragic  cavern,  202.— his  diction,  and 
Aristotle's  character  of  it,  326.— in  what  sense  said  to 
have  drawn  men  as  they  are,  374 — 380.— imitated  common 
nature  more  closely  than  Sophocles   -         -         -         380 

'Evffvtoirrot    -         -  -  -  -  -  •  -       11. 52 

.Expression,   redundant j  an  instance  of  it  frequent  in  the 
Greek  writers  -        -        -        -        -         -         ii.  2 

Expression,  Musical,  considered  as  imitation  by  the  antients, 
and  why,  i.  69— 76.— how  assisted  by  words,  though  by  no 
means  dependent  on  them  -        •        -        -  71 

F. 

Fabite,  double,  of  Aristotle,  not  to  be  confounded  with  our 

double  plot        -        -         -        -  -         -         -     ii.  113 

Felibien  .------     ii.  199 

Fiction,  imitation       -        -        -  -        -        -       i.  27 

Fistula  Panis. — See  Syrinx. 

Flute,  antient,  (AyX^)        -         •  -        -          i.  225,  w. 

Flute-players,  antieni      -        -  -        -    ii.  426 — 428 

FoNTENELLE,  \\\sPlatonic  idea  of  instrumental  Music,  i,  74,  n. 
— his  Pastorals,  246. — of  Hercules  in  the  Alcestis  of 
Eurip.  305.— his  Rejiesions  sur  la  Poetique,  ii.  60.— his 
idea  of  ^schylus,  2 1 1 . — of  sublimity,  212,  n. — his  strange 
notion  of  Homer's  dialects  •        -        -     306 — 309 

FooTK  -----        .       ii.  209,  and  n. 


INDEX      IL 


483 


G. 

rx«TT«t       *--,-..        ii.  315, 316 

Gods,  Hiathen,  well  characterized  in  three  lines  of  Xeno- 
phanes    --------     ii.  383 

Goldsmith,  his  description  of  village  sounds  in  a  summer's 
evening  -         -         •         -         -        -         -         -i.  18 

Gravina  -  -  -  -  i.  32,  n. — his  vindication  of  the 
Jphigenia  of  Euripides  against  Aristotle's  censure  of 
inconi^istence    ------     ii.  155,  156 

Gray,  Air.  -  -  _  his  fondness  for  Racine,  ii.  213.— his 
Jgrippina,        ------_        ibid, 

Grbek  language,  its  comprehensive   brevity  of  expression, 

ii-52,53 


H. 

Handel    --------i.  89 

Harmony,  said  by  Aristotle  to  have  no  expression,  i.iB4. — 
that  assertion  not  true  of  the  harmony  of  modern  counter- 
pmnt,  86,  n. — what  to  be  concluded  from  it  with  respect  to 
the  Music  of  the  antients  -         _         -         -         i^id, 

Harris,  of  sonorous  imitaiiQn  in  a  line  of  Virgil,  i.  6,  w. — of 
the  imperfection  of  such  imitation,  10,  n, — imitation  of 
speech  overlooked  by  him  in  his  account  of  imitative  Music^ 
69,  n.  go, — of  the  difference  between  rhythm  and  metre, 
108,  n. — a  translation  of  his  considered,  ii.  39,  40,  and  n. 
— an  explanation  of  his  questioned,  75,  76. — his  version  of 
the  words  in  which  Aristotle  defines  •n-e^^vtruti,  79. — his 
just  remark  concerning  a  difficulty  in  translation,  210. — 
of  naturalized  metaphors  -         -         -         -         -         27 S 

Heinsius,  his  excellent  comment  on  Aristotle's  rule  relative 
to  the  goodness  of  Tragic  manners      -         -    ii.  132 — 134 

HeLj^n,  her  talent  of  vocal  mimicry      -        -        -    i.  63,  n, 

Hercules,  -  -  -  his  comic  jollity  in  the  Alcestis  of 
Euripides,  ii.  304 — 306. — extravagant  description  of  his 
voracity  -------    304,  n, 

Herodotus       -------    ii.  422 

Hetne,  ii.  219.  330.  389,  w.-  his  just  idea  of  imitative  ver* 
sification,  i.9,  n. — his  explanation  of  ^iiaa-Ko^^,  applied 
to  the  Tragic  Poet  -----  ii.255,w. 

HiPFXASy  bis  Jesuitical  theology    -        -        -        -    ii.  393 

I  i  a  HoBSCS, 


lit, 


4H  I     N     D     E    X      II. 

HoBBE*,  of  L'dcaii,  i.  182,  n. — of  probable  fiction,     ii.  350,  n. 
IIotJAftTii,  i.  261. — his  Analyiis  of  Brauti/        -      ii.  237,  n. 

lioMiLR,  called  tlie  best  of  Painters,  i.  14,  w. — his  description 
of  the  singing  of  the  nightingale,  21. — his  touches  of  local 
description  how  improved  and  finished  by  Pope,  46 — 50, 
and;/. — absurdly  eiiibelllslied  by  his  translators,  64,*?. — 
his  description  of  the  vocal  miuiicry  of  Helen,  63, ». — hymns 
attributed  to  him,  narrative,  211. —  parodied  by  the  an- 
tients,  264,  265. — called  by  VlAn  the  first  of  Tragic 
FoetSf  313. — his  descriptions  of  female  beauty,  ii.  48. — a 

.  fine  pr.ssage  in  his  Odyssey,  1S3. — remarks  on  the  original 
idivision  cf  his  Poems,  184.  186. — his  use  of  the  verb 
Xa.>^'jrxmif,  204  —206. — his  ^i<^  v^oc^^^  See,  how 'defended 
by  iloileau,  302. — how  be  t  defended,  27>i{/.-r- absurd  notion 
of  his  dialects,  307. — his  Poems  regarded  by  Aiistotle  as 
too  long,  337,  338. — his  fictions,  in  what  sense  compared 
to  the  h  gi'vl  sophism  a  consequently  347 — 352.— his  per- 
fect knowled"[e  of  all  arts  and  sciences,  ridiculed  1)V  Plato, 
364.  -a  passage  of,  considered,  and  vindicated  from  meta- 
phorical interpretation,  386 — 389. — passages  of,  consi- 
dered, 317 — 3-20.  400,  and  II. — his  isaccuracies  in  geo- 
grapiiy,  astronomy,  6ic.  censured  by  the  Zoilis^ts,  415.— his 
hexameteis,  and  those  kA  /lesiod,  sung  to  the  lyre  by 
Terpander,  Timotheus,  &:c.         -         -         -         .         4.33 

Horace  -  -  -  ii.  146,  «.  — his  Odes  sometimes  dramatic, 
i.  211,  and  n. — his  expiCbsion  sometimes  taken  from 
Aristotle     -         -         -  -         -         ..        .       ii,  367 

Howes,  Mr.  his  explanation  of  the  hicT^yt  trvreta-t^     -     ii.  1 13 

Hume,  his  objection  to  Aristotle's  doctrine  of  the  iinitj/  of 
fable ii.  54>  55 

HvRD,  P/isbop,  his  masterly  vindication  of  the  Italian  Poets, 
and  the  genuine  privileges  of  Poetry,  i.  183, ;?. — quotied, 
290. —  his  explanation  of  Aristotle's  precept  relative  to 
vniformity  oi  manners,  examined,  ii.  141 — 148. — his  vin- 
dication of  the  Iphigenia  (in  AuUs)  of  Euripides,  con- 
sidered, 151 — 157. — his  explanation  of  the  difierence 
between  the  imitations  of  Sophocles,  and  those  of  Euripides, 
considered,  375 — 381.— of  the  language  of  passion,  358. 
— of  the  end  of  Poetry,  449,  n. — of  the  proper  end  of  Epic 
Poetry 451 

HuTCHEsoN,  Profcwyr, accounts  for  the  power  of  Music  over 
the  passions  from  resemblance  to  passionate  speech,  i.  77 

Hymxs,  «arrartre        -         -        -        -        -         -i.  211 


INDEX      II. 


L 


-  ii.  413,  and  ». 
ii.  62 


Iago         ------ 

lAMfii,  the  Poems  so  called,  acted 

Ix«fw? -        -       ii.  330?  33 » 

Imitation,  strictly  so  called,  what  essential  to  it,  1.4. — 
not  applicable  to  Poetry  in  any  sense,  that  is  not  inde- 
pendent on  metre,  36,/?. — Aristotle's  solution  of  the  pleasure 
arising  from  it,  280,  281. — a  singular  application  of  Aris- 
totle's doctrine  on  that  subject     -         -         -       ii..84,  85 

Imitation,  Poetic  (or  hy  icvrds,)  various  and  confused  ac- 
counts of  it,  i.  56,  w.  58.  —extended  by  some  to  that  general 
£ense,  which  comprehends  all  spetch,  33.  41,  «. — among  the 
antients  closely  connected  with  personal       -         -  62 

. •-—  by  sound         ------     5 — 12 

• by  description  -         -         -         -         -12 — 27 

h\  fiction -  27—31 

. •  hy  personation,  31,  32. — mixture  and  various  com- 
bination of  these  ditibrent  species        -         -         -     33»  34 
• by  resemblance  af  verbal  sound  and  motion,  its  im- 
perfection, 6,  and  n.  10,  n.— how  produced   by  the  best 
Poets,  8,  and  n.  40.— not  imitation  in  a  strict  and  proper 
sense       -         -         -         -         -         -         -         -9.  11 

Jlctive,  distinct  from  descriptixey  27,  28. — neither  of 


them,' strictly  and  properly,  imitation,  ^o.—deseripti-ce,  not 
noticed  by  Aristotle,  and  v.hy     -         -         -         -     54,  55 

Imitation,  Musical,  synonymous  to  expression,  with  the 
antients,  but  opposed  to  it  by  modern  wi  iters,  i.  69,  and  ». 

Imitative  Arts,  confusion  arising  from  that  general  de- 
nomination applied  to  Poetry,  Music,  and  I'aintmg,  iu 
classing  the  arts,  i,  91,  92.— absurdity  of  extending  it  to 
Architecture    -------      92,  a. 

Incidents,  how  considered  by  Aristotle  as  arising,  or  not 
arising,  from  the  action  itself    -         -         -     ii.  194,  195 

Johnson,  Dr.  of  Shakspeare's  hasty  conclusions,  i.  156,  n. — 
of  Thomson's  diction,  187,  «.-  of  the  unities  »»f  time  and 
place,  344.— of  the  Tragic  language  of  Adcison  and  Shak- 
speare,  ii.  31,  w.— his  censure  of  Mr.  Gray's  Agrippina, 
213.  — of  the  characters  of  Lothario  and  Lovelace,  413. — 
of  the  ejfect  of  the  character  of  Iago  on  the  spectator, 
?6i(f.  «.— of  the  merit  of  the  Epic  Poet         -         -         453 

JoNSON,  Ben,  prologue  to  the  puppet-shew  of  Hero  and 
L{:dndQT  \u  his  Bart holomeiv-Fair        -        -        -      i- 334- 

,  I  i  3  JoRTi:iJ, 


4B<5  INDEX      II. 

JoRTiN,  Dr.  his  character  of  Achilles    -         -         -     ii.  j6g 
Joseph,  and  his  brethren,  story  of        -        -        -  i.  132,  n. 

IpHiGENiA  (at  Aulis)  of  Euripides— inconsistence  attributed 
to  her  character  by  Aristotle,  considered     -     11.151—157 

IsocRATEs ii.  209,  w.— of  the  privileges  of  Poetry,  and 

the  importance  of  Vfne  to  its  eftect  .        -         -  360 

Kaims,  Lord,  his  assertion,  that  harmony  has  "  no  relation 
to  sentiment'  examined,  1.  84,  w.— of  the  rw6/r,  324,  325. — 
his  just  character  of  Kacine     -        -        .         .     ii.  212 

KaTavf-jj^JO-owfiatt  -  -  •  -  .  -  -ii.  403 

KaQa^o-n,  (ira9i}jt«»T4;j') -- considered,  ii.  3 — 19. — a  passage 
relative  to  it  in  Aristotle's  Polit.  examined  and  trans- 
lated      -----...     5__,4 

Kf»/Afyov   (oyo^a)     -  -  -  -  -  -  -      ii.  29I 

Kt^av,  Kif^oi^xtf  to  pour  out     -----     ii.  397 
KiyriTix^     --_-«__.      ij    3^2 

KoiM<r/A®' -  ii.  308,  and  «. 

Ko/i/x^,  what,  ii.  85. — example  of  it      -  -          99—101 

Ko§^«|,  the  dance  so  called    -         -         -  -          i.  249^  n. 

Koay.^j   the   ornamental  word  -  -  -   what  probably    meant 

by  i.t     -       -       -       -       -       -       .    li.  205—298 

Kf^io*  (ofoftflt),  its  sense         -        -        -        -      ii.  278,  279 

L. 
La  Fontaine '    -        ii.  355,  n. 

La  Mont,  i.  58.  n. — combats  the  notion,  that  instruction  is 
the  end  of  Poetry,  ii.  449,  n.  —  his  account  of  Homer's 
diction    -         -         -        -        -        -         -        -         301 

Landscape,  no  technical  term  equivalent  to  it  in  Greek  or 
Roman  writers         -         -        -         -         -         -         i.  52 

Landscape-painting,  not  practised,  or  not  cultivated,  by 
the  Greeks,  i.  51. — its  effect  on  the  general  taste  for  pros- 
pects and  ruial  scenery    -         -         -         -         -53,5^ 

Language,  na^wra/ not  always  simple  and  familiar  lan- 
guage   ii.  322,  n. 

A«|k,  in  what  sense  applied  by  Aristotle  to  the  Parode  of 
the  Greek  Tragedy,  ii.  88  -  92.  -and  Xiyiaflai,  sometimes 
applied  to  recitative,  or  such  singing  as  most  resembles 
speech     4; 21.  88 

Aix,t9omi     -         -         - i.  47,  w. 

Little 


INDEX 


II.  487 

i.  178,  n,  ii.  161 


Little  Iliad    -        -       -        -        • 

Aoyo*  -i^tXo*,  not  always  prose  -----     i.  234 

AoT^,  how  used  by  Aristotle,  i.  236.— and  by  Plato,  i6i(f.n.— 

the  speaking  or  dialogue  part  of  Tragedy,  205.  ii.  35.— its 

sense  iu  Aristotle's  analysis  of  diction  in  general^  258,  259 

LoNGiNUs,  of  the  inequalities  of  Sophocles,  i.  303.— of 
the  Odyssey,  ii.  31,  n.  —  illustrates  an  expression  of 
Aristotle  -        - 359 

LuCAN,  «tT^  ^/ jAa  ay«>»{£T»4         -  -         -        ].  182,  n. 

l^uciAN,  of  descriptive  imitation,  i.  14, «.  16,7?.— of  the  pan- 
tomimic musical  accompaniment,  221.  —  of  the  comic 
masks,  327,  n.— of  the  dress  of  the  antient  Tragic  actors, 
ii.  340,  n.— of  the  requisites  of  an  accomplished  panto- 
mimic dancer  -------   4^8,  n. 

LuDius,  of  the  Augustan  age,  the  first  landscape-painter  upon 
record    -        -         -         -        •        ~        "        -       1.  52 

A«(r«?,  (fenoumc/i/,  development  -        -     ii.  221, 222 

M. 

Madness,  enthusiasm,  of  every  kind,  frequently  so  denomi- 
nated by  the  antients  .         -         -         ii.  210,  and  n. 
Maffei,  mistakes  Aristotle    -         -        -        -    ii.  129,  130 
Mandrabulus,  a  Poem  of  Cleophon    -         -         -     1.264 

M««it^ -         -         -    ii.  210 

Manners,  (or  cAarac^er,)— little  of  them  in  the  Tragedy  of 
a  polished  age  ------         u.  30,  31 

. .  Tragic,  in  what  sense  required  by  Aristotle  to  be 

good,  and  why ;  the  rule  intended  as  a  compromise  with 
Plato,  ii.  131 — 136. — Aristotle's  precept  relative  to  their 
uniformity,  how  to  be  understood  -         -       141—149 

Ma>9«»i»r,  i.  280— 288.— a  particular  use  of  that  verb,  ii.  396 
Margites  -        -        --        -         -        -1.  291 

Markland,  his   manner   of  defending    Euripides   against 
Aristotle's  censure  of  his  Iphigenia    -         -        -    ii.  157 

Marmontel,  M.  misUkes  Aristotle,  ii.  108,  ».  134,  n. — 

quoted    -        - 201.223 

Marsyas -         -ii.  12,  «• 

Marvellous,  ^Ac  rfrawa/zc         -        -        •     ii.  118,  119 
Masks,  of  the  Old  Comedy,  caricaturas  -        -      i.  327 

114  Mason, 


48S 


INDEX       II. 


1.  117,  n. 
ii.  '25,  n. 

ii-  435, ". 
i.  145,  w. 


Mason,  Mr.  his  excellence  in  imitative  description  o? souudf, 
and  particularlv  oiinu&ical  sounds,  1. 1(5—2 1  .—example  i'rom 
}mCdractacus,  17.— liis  idea  of  Tragic  language,  ii.  •322,//. 
— a  fine  exdui'plc  from  his  Curacfacifs  of  I'lic  simpler  lan- 
guage of  Tragedy     ----..         323 

Matron-,  a  famous  Parodist         -         -         •        -       j^  26- 

Mvx^vTiy  ii.  158.— of  the  French  opera,  described  bv  Rous- 
^*'a"       -         -         - -^      -^.^^ 

MEGALIOT.il  -----..       ii,  075 

?!7^^'    -     -     - ii.43 

'^     '^^  -----  11.   102,  7#. 

Melody, /)a//W/c— its  imitation  of  the  tone*  and  inflectiens 
of  impassioned  speech,  i.  88— 00.— such  imitution  -par- 
ticularly remarkable  in  Pergolesi,  Purcell,  and  Handel,  80. 
— denied  by  Dr.  Beattie  -         -         .         .         88   «. 

Melopoeia,  what        -         .         .         -         . 

MeA^-,  used  in  three  different  musical  senses 

^Iexage    ------. 

Mexamitk,  curious  story  of        -         -         - 

Menandlr,  anecdote  relative  to  the  antient  Chorus  in  a 
fragment  of  his      -         -         .         -         -         -         w^  qg 

Merope.— See  Discovert. 

Mfo-o*,  whether  used  by  Aristotle  to  denote  the  circumflex 
'Accent ii.  261—267 

Mira^a^-K  (of  Tragedy,)  what  ...  ii.  ^^ 

Metamorphoses,  of  Ovid— unity  of  that  Poem,  of  what 
^i»^        -         - i.  i«6, //. 

Metaphor,  Aristotle's  principle  of  the  pleasure  we  receive 
from  it,  i.  282. — various  ways  of  guarding  it,  accordiii<y 
to  Aristotle ii.  .294,  295 

—  the  a/wlogical,  or  proportional,   what ;  and   how  it 

differs  from  the  melapbor  a  specie  ad  .speriijii,  ii.  28*2—288. 
— instances  of  it   fiom  Aristotle   and   liomcr,   285,  286, 

and;/. 
Metastasio,  his  Esfratlo  della  Poetica  d\4ri6toiilc  -  i.  343 

Michael  Angelo,  how  characterized  by  Sir  Jos.  Reynolds, 

■Kr  "•  381 

Milton,  a  circumstance  in  his  description  of  the  sound  of 

a  bell,  i.  20.— his  excellence  in  imitative  description  of 
soumh,  and  particularly  of  mimcal  sounds,  16—20.-  his 
account  of  Aristotle's  purgation  of  the  passions  by  Tra- 
gedy, !i.  18.— prologue  of  Jiis  Comus,  not  more  excep- 
tionable than  Ihose  of  Euripides  ...         9^ 

Mimes, 


INDEX       II. 


489 


^IiMES,  .of  Sophroji,  i.  244 — 24G. — not,  probably,  of  the 
licentious  cast  of  the  Roman  JNIimes  -         -         245 

Mimicry,  vocal,  its  antiquity,  i.6i,«.  218. — two  remarkable 
instancies  of  it  recorded  by  Homer  -         -         63,  n. 

MoLESTUs,  (po^TiK'^    -        -        •        -        -        ii.  420,  n, 

MoNBODDO,  Lord,  of  the  style  of  Cicero's  orations  com- 
pared with  that  of  his  rhetorical  and  philosophical  works, 
ii.  38,  n.  [where  add  to  the  rei^rences,  vol.  ni.p.  256.] — 
of  Homer's  language         -----         ^09 

Monologues,  of  the   Greek  Tragedy,  whether  set  to  red- 


tatncj  or  uir 


ii.  27,  28 


Moor,  Professor,   his  erroneous    explanation  of  Aristotle's 
xa9«^j-K      -         -         -         -        -         -         -         iLS,  ft. 

Mo^«a,  species  -  -  -         -  -         -  i.  289 

Mva^ot    --------  ii.  ^42 

Music,  its  whole  power  reducible  to  three  distinct  effects, 
i.  66. — how  far  it  ran  lait^e  ideas,  67,  68.  73,  n. — in  what 
senses  regarded  as  imitative  by  the  moderns,  68. — and  by 
the  aniients,  69.  —ideas  and  language  of  the  antients,  on 
this  subje;.t,  accounted  for,  69 — 76. — its  power  over  the 
passiuns,  %hat,  72. —  that  power  accurately  expressed  by 
Aristotle,  72, 91. — docs  not  depend  on  Poetry  for  its  ex- 
pression, 73,  and  n, — its  separation  from  Poetry,  by  whom 
complained  of,  74,  n. — allowed  by  Aristotle  to  have  ex- 
pression without  words,  74,  n.  83. — its  power  of  affectiug 
resolved  by  some  v, liters  into  a  resemblance,  more  or  less, 
to  the  tones  of  speech,  77.  88. — the  analogy  of  its  me- 
lody and  rliylhm  10  tJiose  of  speech,  76,  77,  78,  and  n.  88. 
— impropriety  of  calling  it  an  imitative  art,  according  to 
the  mod'^n  ideas  of  musical  imitation,  91, — an  antient 
division  of  it  into  three  kinds*  -         -         -         -         ii.  6 

Music,  Antient,  its  improvements,  like  those  of  the  modem, 
treated  as  corruptions      -         -         -         -         i.  270,  271 

Music,  Dramatic,  of  the  Greeks,  strictly  imitative    -    i.  76 

Music,  Instrumental,  its  power,  1473,  n. — a  peculiar  pleasure 
arising  from  the  verj'  indeterminateness  of  its  expression,  *" 
74,  n. — of  the  antients,  76. — in  what  sense  considered  by 
Aristotle  as  imitating  manners  and  characters  -    262,  263 

Music,  Pastoral,  affecting  by  association,  i.  224,  and  n.  225 

Music,  Vocal,  almost  solely  cultivated  by  the  Greeks,  i. 73.76 


49<> 


INDEX     ir. 


N. 


NicoMACiius,  Painter      --...].  ^sg 
Nightingale,  her  singing  characterized  by  Homer  -  i.  *i 

NoMEs,  not  essentially  distinguished  from  Dithyrambics  by 
the  objects  of  their  imitation    -        -         i.  267.  271,  272 

Novels,  a  good  apologetical  motto  fpr  them,  ii.  242. — im- 
probability often  unreasonably  objected  to  them,  242,  C43 

O. 

Objects,  ruraly  in  what  manner  usually  described  by  the 
antients,  i.  45,  n, — examples  from  Theocritus^  yi^ph  and 
Plato 


ibid. 
ii.  II,  and  n. 

ii.  391 
ii.  145,  146 

ii.  37  » 
i.  117,  n, 

i.  159>  «• 
ii.  408,  409 


Olympus,  his  sacred  Music     -        -        - 

O/AA^^  -  -  -  •  -  .- 

Oppian  --.--» 

Orchestra  -        -        -        .        . 

flcavrvff  todem  sentu       .... 

P. 

Painting,  the  three  styles  of  it  mentioned  by  Aristotle 
applicable  to  modem  artists    -        .         -         i,  259,  260 

Paintings,  indecent ^  allowed  in  the  temples  of  some  hea- 
then deities  -------        j,  256 

Pantomime,  moderuy  Aristotelic  analysis  of  it,  ii.  12O,  121 

Roman  ----.,         ii.  122,  m. 

Parabasis,  of  the  Greek  Comedy        -        -        -     i.  330 

Het^tt(pvXaTrto^at  -  •  -  •  .  "ii.2lO 

n«^*  ivfAtroty  {a  consequentiy)  the  logical  sophism  so  called, 
what,  ii.  347.— how  applied  by  Aristotle  to  Homer's 
management  of  fiction  .        .        .        ii.  g^y — ^52 

Parode,  of  the  Greek  Chorus,  to  what  kind  of  melody  it 
was  sctj  ii.  88 — 91. — a  specimen  of  that  melody  from 
Dionysius  Halicarn.  89 — 91. — of  the  Orestes  of  Euri- 
pides, ibid. — always  sung  by  the  Chorus  either  af,  or  soon 

after. 


INDEX       IP. 


491 


c/?cr,  their  first  entrance  upon  the  stage,  92.  95.  97. — was 
sometimes  in  the  regular  Lyric  form,  of  Strophe  and 
Antistiuphe  -----.         g^^  ^^ 

Parodies,  a  favourite  species  of  humour  with  the  Athenian^ 
;— specimens  of  them  -         -        -         -         ii.  264 — 266 

Passion,  the  natural  Poetry  of         -        -        -        ii.  358 

Passions,  ;>i/r^af/o»  of,  by  Tragedy,  considered,  ii.  3 — 19. — 

,  how  far  the  frequent  exercise  of  them,  by  works  of  ima- 

^     gination,  may  tend  to  moderate  and  refine  them  in  real 

iife   ; 15—18 

n«8u        -        -        -        -        •        -        -        -        ii.  81 

naGrj/xara,  used  by  Aristotle  as  synonymous  with  ITaO)),  ii.  8,n. 

Pathetic,  -  -  -  -  not  attainable,  either  in  Poetry  or 
Painting;  without  close  imitation  of  nature  and  real 
life ii.  38i,and«. 

Pauson,  a  licentious  Painter     -        -        -        -        i.  q^^ 

Pergolesi      -        -        -        -        -        .-  i.  89 

Ilt^tTrfTcia,  liexolution,  what  -  -  -  ii  77. — confounded 
with  the  ^iTa^ao-j;,  or  change  of  fortune,  common  to  all 
Tragedy       -         -         -         .         -         -         -       74—79 

n^iTTJj -        ii.  341 

Petrarch ii.  291 

<^xv'K^,  STTd^on©*     .  -  -  -  «  i.  276-— 278 

<>jaX»)     --------         ii,  289 

4>4Aa>Gg4;To»       -----  ii.  104-<— 106.  240 

4>tAta  l^oc^'n<i      -------  ii,  445 

Philoxenus,  the  Poem  of  his,  alluded  to  by  Aristotle,  not 
a  drama       ------.        i,  268 

Phorcides,  The      ---•.-    1.155,7?. 

4>«pTix<^  -.--.-•       ii.  420 — 415 

PiccoLOMiNi,  his  version  and  commentary  quoted,  ii.  78. 
139-  175- 190.  284.  289.  304.  312.  355.*— an  objection 
of  his  removed         .-----        298 

Pindar,  instances  of  the  dramatic  in  his  Odes,  i.  211, and  n. 
— an  Aristotelic  passage  of   -         -         -         ii.  355,  356 

Plato,  his  description  of  the  banks  of  the  Ilissus,  i.  45,11. 
— his  idea  of  Poeiic  imitation,  and  in  what  it  differed  from 
that  of  Aristotle,  60. — his  objections  to  it,  57,  «.  63,  n. — 
coincides  with  I'ontenelle  as  to  the  want  of  meaning  in 
instrumental  Music,  74,  n. — resolves  musical  expression 

into 


*l 


49'2 


INDEX       II. 


into  resemblance  of  spetcb,  79.— his  division  of  Poetry, 
into  three  kinds,  210.  275.— uses  ^oytf,-  >!/*Xtf{  in  the  sense 
of  Aristotle,  for  vvords  without  music,  *234,  235,  n. — his 
idea  of  Poetiy  stripped  01  metre,  239,  240,  and  n. — his 
dialogues  dramatic — sometimes  acted,  247,  and  w. — attri- 
butes to  Music  the  imi tuition  01  manners  and  characters, 
261.— his  idea  of  Comedy  agrees  with  Aristotle's,  326, 
and  w.— his  objection  to  Tragedy,  ii.  14,  15,  and  n. — calls 
Homer  T^ay«o»owot<&-,  and  Eprc  Poetry,  Tragic,  117,  «.— 
his  idea  ef  the  danger  of  exhibiting  bad  characters  in 
Poetic  nuitation,  132.  135,  13G,  and  //. — his  character  of 
Achilles,  167.  169.— familiar  to  him  to  speak  of  all 
enthusiasm  as  a  species  of  madness,  210. — his  account 
of  Protagoras,  257. — his  address  to  the  Tragic  Poets,  363. 
— in  what  manner  he  exposes  the  notion  of  Homer's  ac- 
curate knowledge  of  arts  and  bcietices,  364. — his  whimsical 
argument  to  discredit  Poetic  imitation,  365,  n. — con- 
tinually reproaching  the  Poets  with  violation  of  truth, 
373,  374,  411,  412. — his  idea  of  the  use  of  wine,  384. — 
a  line  passage  in  hmi,  vindicating  the  truth  and  immuta- 
bility of  God,  394. — of  the  immoral  tendency  of  Homer's 
fictions,  412.— quoted,  i.  216,  «.  283.  ii.47.  64.  430.  445, 

446,  n. 

Plautus,  and  Terence,  their  way  of  supplying  the  imper- 
fect conclusions  of  their  plays   -         -        •-         -       ii.  45 

Plautus,  of  Poetic  fiction  -        -        -        -         -     ii.  356 
Plays,  C^i«f5e,  their  length         -         -         -  ii.  334)n- 

Pliny,  the  Elder,  no  landscape,  or  landt^cape- painter,  men- 
tioned in  his  account  of  Grecian  artists  and  their  works, 
i.  51,  52.— his  account  of  Protogenes  -         -  260 

Pliny, //ic  Foww Off r i.  5'2,«.  SS?"- 

Pldtaiich,  of  vocal  mimicry,  i.  62,  w. — of  the  paintings  of 
Dionysius  the  Colophonian,  259. — rails  at  musical  corrup- 
tion, 271.  ii.  105. — of  two  dirtcrent  ways  in  which  the 
Tragic  Iambics  were  sung,  ii.  21.  27.-0!'  a  musical  revo- 
lution, 69.— his  account  of  the  theatrical  efl'ect  of  the 
discovery  in  the  Cresphontes  of  Euripides,   130. — quoted, 

26,«.  73;  433 

PoET-nilLOSOPHERS  •-  -----        1.  248 

Poetry,  imitation,  in  a  strict  sense,  only  when  dramatic  or 
pcrsonative,  i.  31,  32. — to  be  considered  i.s  imitative  on|y  in 
lour  senses,  32.-"whence,originLUly,  denominated  an  imita^ 
tive  art,  S7 — 65. — noiread,  in  geneial,  by  the  Greeks,  but 
heard,  63,  64. — absurdity  of  supposing  instruction  to  be  its 
chief  end,  ii.  448.-113  end,  according  to  Aristotle,  to  giic 
pkiuure  -         -         -         -       •  -         -  448, 449 

.  Poetry, 


INDEX       II. 


493 


Poetry,  Theological,  of  the  Greeks,  did  not  exclude  fiction 
and  invention  -----         i.  210,  211 

If  "^ 

Poets,  Greek  Tragic,  obliged  to  conform  to  the  taste  of  the 

people,  i.  309,  and  w. — compared  witli  Shakspeare,  311. 
ii.  30,  31. — originally  actors  also,  201.  255.— the  great 
number  of  their  productions     -         -         -         -    340,341 

TlomcT^sti  mt  /xl/*»jcr<»,  never  used  by  Aristotle  for  i^ifjAic^l 
simply  ------         i.  251,252 

nox<Tix»j,  ('h) — ^o^iT^x®•,  (*o)-^neXjTjxfcs'      -       -  ii.  36,  37 

Pollux,  Jul, a  passage  about  the  Sijr'mx,  or  Fistula 

Panis         -         -         -         -  i.  220,  221,  222,  and  ??. 

PoLus,  the  Tragic  actor       -----      ii.  434 

POLYGNOTUS        -  -  -  -  .i  -  -  i.255 

Pope,  his  improvement  of  Homer's  local  and  picturesque  de- 
scriptions, i.  46 — 40,  and  n.  ii.  387. — hfs  Pastorals,  ^i.  246 

Potter,  Mr.  his  explanation  of  Aristotle'^  censure  of  the 
choral  odes  of  Euripides,  i.  158,  n. — his  opinion  of  a 
passage  of  Aristotle  considered,  ii.  149,  150. — of  the  dis- 
covery in  the  C/ioe/7/w/-^  of  .'Eschylus  -         -     189,^. 

Tl^oail^io-iq  --------  ii.40,  «. 

U^Q^XniAurx,  critical     -         -         -         -         -         -  i.i88,  n. 

Prologue,  Greek,  Aristotle's  own  account  of  it,  i.329,  330, 
and  n. — the  two  difierent  kinds  of  it  expressed,  and  ex- 
emplified, by  Terence,  332.— the  narrative,  332. — its  his- 
tory and  revolutions  -         -         -         -         3^3,  334 

Prologue,  of  the  Greek  Comedy,  not  different   from  that  of 

Tragedy i.329— 33 1 

'  of  the  French  Opera         -        -        -        -     i.  334 
Prospect,  (or  View,)  no  single  Greek  or  Latin  term  equiva- 

i-53>«. 


lent  to  it 

n^jT^oAu     ------ 

Tl^uTotyu9Hr/iZ  -  -  -  - 

Protagoras,  singular  history  of  him  - 
Protogenes  -  -  -  -  - 
YkX^ 

Ptolemy,  of  descriptive  imitation, 
Purcell  -        -        -        -        - 


i.  162,  n, 

"       i-  295,  296 

-  ii.  256,  257 

-  i.  260 

-  i.  234— 236 

-  i.  J3,«. 

-  i.  89 


I 


494 


INDEX      II. 


Q. 


QuiNTiLiAN,  of  ii^  and  9ra0®-,  ii.  31,  n. — his  character  of 
EuripifleSf  38.— v^f  Zeuxisy  50.— illustrates  a  passage  of 
Aristotle,  264,  265. — of  the  use  of  metaphors,  303. — of  the 
Aictioa  oi  Euripides  -         -         ,         -         -     325,  w. 

Quixote,  Don,  his  idea  of  translation  -        -         i.  281,  n. 

R. 
Racine     --------    ii.  ai2 

Raphael  ------       i.  259, 260 

Reading not  a  general  practice  with  the  antienls,  as 

with  us  -----       i.  63 — 65,  and  n.  ii.  18 

Recitative,  of  the  Greek  Tragedy        -        -        ii.  26,  27 

Recitative,  Choral     -----  ii.  89,  n. 

Reynolds,  SirJoiAua,  quoted,  i.  126,  n.  258,  n.  260;  ii.  381. 
— of  individuality  of  imitation  in  painting     -       ii.  381,71; 

Rhapsodists,  i.  65,  n. — recited,  or  declaimedy  only     -  ii.  432 

Rhythm     -------        i.  108,  n. 

Richardson,  his  LoTc/acc   -        -        -      i.  i84,b.  ii.  413 

Richardson,  the  painter,  i.  259,  260,  and  n. — describes  the 
paintings  of  Mich.  Aogelo  and  Raphael  in  Aristotle's 
terms      -        -         -        -        -        -        -        -•      260 

Riddle,  Greek   -------   ii.  306 

Ridiculous,  (T^e)    -----    Aristotle's  account  of  it 

defended  ------     i.  320— 327 

Robortelli,  his  commentary  quoted    -        -        ii.  129,  n. 
Rondeau  -        -        -        -      ^-        -        -     i.  283 

Rousseau,  misunderstood  by  Dr.  Bcattie,  i.7,n. — attributes 
all  expression  in  Music  to  imitation,  more  or  less  percep- 
tible, of  speechy  77. — of  the  effect  of  paision  in  melodizing 
the  voice,  78,  n, — his  inconsistence  in  asserting  that 
harmony  has  no  expression^  84,  n. — his  absurd  idea  of  the 
thealrical  declamation  of  the  antients,  ii.  19. — a  LHatonic 
writtr,  135.— agrees  with  Plato  io  his  objections  to  dra- 
matic imitation        -        -        -        -        *        -        136 

Rubens    -----•-•     i.  a6» 


INDEX      II. 


S. 


495 


Sampson  Agonistes  -        -        -        -        -      11.44 

Satan  of  Milton,    -    -     -   his  manners  x?*Jra,  according  to  ' 
Le  Bossu         -.---,,     ii.  131 

Satyr,  and  Satire     -        -        -        -        -         i.  112  n: 

Satyric  Drama,  probably  much  shorter  than  the  serious 
Tragedy  -         -      '  -         -         .        .         ii.  336^  „, 

Scaliger,  J.  C.  of  descriptive  imitation,  i.  12,  n.— his  notion 
of  Poelic  imitation  -        -        -         -         -         -41   n. 

Scaliger,  »/o*e/7A       -        -        -        -        .        -    ii.  182 
Scenery,  painted       --»._.,      j^  ^gg 

Scenery,  dresses,  mvsic.  Sec.  how  Aristotle  meant  to  extend 
to  them  his  precepts  respecting  the  manners,  and  improved 
imitation,  of 'Iraigtdy         -         -         -         .     ii.  170— 172 

Zx^iiMira  Xi|ift»?,  Jigurcs  of  speech,  what  Aristotle  mtant  by 
them,  ii.  250—255.  271 — whence  denominated  <ry„z^T« 
orjgures 253 

Sculpture,  of  the  antients,  sometimes  coloured,    i.  216,  n. 

^»»/*«'°«' ii.  178—180' 

Sentence  -  -  -  no  Greek  word  exactly  synonymous 
^«  i^     -        -        - ,       -         -        -        -      ii.  259, 260 

Sentences,  5i^n?/?cflM^,  and  assertive,  &  distinction  of  Aris- 
totle's logic ii.  259.  273 

Shaftsbury,  Lord,  his  extravagant  encomium  on  the  Greek 

Tragedy,  i.  310.— his  misrepresentation  of  Aristotle,  ibid. 

his  explanatory  translation  of  a  passage  of  Aristotle,  ii.  52 

Shakspeare,  ii.  31.  50.  389.— neglected  the  conclusions  of 
his  plays,  1.  156,  n.  ii.  45,  and  n.—his  Caliban,  i.  184,  «. 
"•  35 1  .—compared  with  the  Greek  Tragedians    -    i.  3 1 1 
Sheridan,  Mr.  his  Critic    -        .        -        .        -      ii.  71 

Shuttles,  an^i>«^ ii.  181,182 

Sidney  Biddulpii     ------  ii.  103 

Sifflet  de  chaudronnier        -         -        -        .        «     j.  220 

Singers,  of  the  modern  Italian,  and  antient  Greek,  Opera-^ 
their  similar  influence  over  Poets  and  Composers,  ii.  69,  70 

Singing  -  -  »  -  in  what  essentially  different  from 
speech    - i.  78,  n.  ii.  93,  n, 

ritX»)fPT»){     - ii.  163,  164 

Socrates,  not  fond  of  the  country,  and  his  reason,  i.  45,  n. 

Sophism,  Poetic,  of  Homer's  fictions,  explained,  ii.  347 — 35a 

SoPHIiTS, 


496  I     N     D     E    X      II. 

Sophists,  their  critical  cavils  -  -  -  -  ii.  67 
Sophocles,  sometimes  fiimiliar  and  Trani-comic,  i.  -^oi 
302.  307. — his  scenes  of  altercation,  huw  cliaractenzrd 
by  a  Comic  Poet,  302,  n.—his  prologues,  329,— his  descrip- 
tion of  Oedipus  tearing  out  his  own  eyes,  ii.  83.— did  not 
observe  the  French  rule,  "  de  we  pas  tnsang/nntcr  le 
Thfatrt^*  ii.  83.— his  diction,  325. — in  what''  sense  he 
"  drevi  men  as  they  ought  to  be*'  -         .         -       orj gg^ 

SoPHRoy,  i.  244.— imitated  in  an  Idyl  of  Theocritus,  246 

SouyDS,  imitative  description  of    -         -         -       i.  1- 21 

Spenser defects  of   a  famous  stanza   in   his   Faery 

Q^^-^"  -  ^ -     i.  19.  n. 

T7nioei,i'^,<^xv'K^    -  -  -  -  .   i.  276 278 

Xira^ajoTc^oir  -  -  -  -  .  -         ii.  61,62 

Stasimon in   what   sense    "  •without   anapcests  and 

trochees" -         -      ii.  98,  99 

Steele,  Mr.  his  Essay  on  the  Melody ,  ^c.  ofSpecch,  1.  88,  n. 

Sthexelus,  insipidity'  of  his  language,  how  represented  hy 
Aristophanes    -         -         -         -         -         -     ii.  302,  303 

Strabo,  of  Homers  mixture  of  truth  with  fiction,  ii.  348. — 


of  the  end  of  Poetic  fiction 


372 


Strophe  and  Antistrop^e,  set  to  the  same  melody,  i.  269,  n. 
Surprise,  heightens  passion  -         -        -  ii.  73,  and  n. 

Syrinx,  or  Pipe  of  Pan,  i.  219,  220. — a  South  Sea  instru- 
ment, 220. — two  different  instruments  of  this  name  men- 
tioned by  Jut.  Pollux,  221,  222.— its  tone  characterized  in 
the  Homeric  hymn  to  Mercury,  223. — doubts  and  con- 
jecttrres  concerning  the  instrucnent  of  this  name  mentioned 


by  Aristotle 


220 — 225 


T. 


ii.  183—186 

4i.  178,  179 

i.  332.  ii.  45 


Tale  of  Alcinous       -'        -         -         - 

Tsx^il^iop         ------ 

Terence    -  .        -        -        _        _ 

Terror— Aristotle  seems  to  have  thought  it  sometimes 
pushed  to  excess  by  the  Greek  Tragedians    -   ii.  127,  128 

Tetralogia,  Tragic,  the  dramas  that  composed  it  performed 
on  different  festivals  -         -         -         -         -  i^i.  332 — ^336 

Theocritus,  his  15th  Idyl,  an  admirable  example  of  the 
close  and  natural  delineation  of  common  life,  i.  246. — his 
description.  Idyl  7,  not  of  the  landscape  kind     -         45, ». 

Theodorus,  the  Tragic  actor,  his  voice       -        -     i.  62,  n. 

Theophrastus,  of  the  efl'ectof  passion  upon  the  raelQdy  of 
speech,  i.  78,  n, — of  the  dance  called  xo^^»|       -    249,  ». 

Thomson, 


'497 
ii.  292,  293 

i.  287,  n. 

ii.  425,  426 

i-343 


INDEX      II. 

Thomson,  fills  up  a  sketch  of  Virgil 
©o^yjSiir  ------ 

Toup,  an  emendation  of  his  considered      - 
Trachini^  of  Sophocles        -        -        - 

Tragedy  not  distinguished,  originally,  from  Ca?nedy,  i.  308, 
309  and  n. — its  r;?rf,  according  to  Aristotle,  ii.  127,  128  -^ 
Its  effect  does  not  depend  upon  our  ignorance  of  its  catas- 
trophe 223.-its  different  species,  <i2J^.-not  perfectly  se- 
parated  from  Comedy  in  Aristotle's  time,  233.-how  much 
Its  effect  depends  on  the  fable,  248,  and  ;.. -Aristotle's  pre- 
ference of  It  to  the  Epic  Poem  considered       -    451,  452 

Tragedy,  I're^c/i        -        -    i.  310,  n.  ii.  3,.  8-2.  212.  301 

Tragedy,  Gree^  the  Lyric,  exceeded  the  Dialogue,  part  of 

It    before  /Eschylus    1.  297.-its  .^or.  .//a/o^oV  or  r.^!- 

thrZ'J^'f  ''^'  ^'^^f'  '\  ^7-]  300. -whether  s^ng 
throughout,  u.  i9-28.-what  parts  of  it  most  likely  to 
W  been  spoken,  24.-absurd  to  attribute  to  it  the  delicacy 
of  the  French  stage,  82_85.-vain  attempts  of  Dacier 
Brumous  &c.  to  divide  \imio  five  acts,  94 -its  dict'on; 
299—301.  321— observations  on  the  progress  and  im- 
provements of  its  diction      -         -         /    ^.     324-326 

Tragedy,  the  infernal  ....  y^  233-235 

^M^'^tTh  ^'''^'  "^^  V^  ^^  represented  as  correct  and  per- 
ll  r^  '  '•  3»o— their  inequahties,  and  intermixture  of 
low  and  comic  dialogue,  300-309.  ii.  233.-«their  popular 
and  rragi-comic  origin  maybe  traced  in  them,  i.  308, 
r^-;  5l''"T*'"   '^^^^    occasions    their  length   miriht   be 

om  tl'/s  ''1  "Tr;/'  ^  ^^-  337.-said'to  hav'e  been 

iometimes   played  by  the  hour-glass,  54. -conjecture  as 

to  the  number  performed  in  one^day,'  a'n'd  to  one'  audie^: 

tuX      T  '"'    33i-34i.~of  very    different 

^  '        ■        -        -        -       336,  n, 

rRAci-CoMEDY,  Greek    -         -         -        .         i.  303-309 

Translation  Don  Quixote's  notion  of  it,i.  28,,  ^.-some- 
times  unavpidably  paraphrastical    -        -        ii.  210,211 

TiiocuAic  tetrameter,  how  characterized  by  Aristotle,  i.  249. 
3i3.--though  a  safyric  measure,  does  not  occur  in  the 
only  satyric  drama  extant 3,.; 

TzETZES,/o^n ii^,g; 


VOL.   11. 


K  K 


i 


498 


INDEX      IL 


INDEX      II. 


499 


hi 


U.    V. 

Valckenaer,  of  the  Mimes  of  Sophron        -        -    i.  244 

Valerius  Maximus,  his  account  of  theatrical  riots  at 
Rome       - i.  227 

Vatry,  Abbe,  his  presumptive  proof  that  the  Greek  Tragedy 
was  sung  throughout  -         -         -         -         ii.  22,  23 

y^i? -ii.  445 

Velleius  Paterculus,  of  Homer      -        -        -    ii.  330 

Verse,  the  difference  hetween  it,  and  well  measured  prose, 
less  with  the  antients  than  with  us,  i.  233,  and  «.— essential 
to  Poetry  in  the  general  opinion  of  the  antients,  238,  239. 
i\.  360,  361.  —  included  in  Aristotle's  general  idea  of 
Poetry »•  239-  289 

V1CTORIU8,  his  commentary  quoted,  i.  3S,  n.  ii.  57,  58,  n. 
230,  231.  370.  et  passim. 

ViLLANY,  atrocious,  its  effect  in  Tragedy,  ii.  412,  413, 
and  n.— Plato's  and  Rowsseau's  idea  of  the  exhibition 
of  it "•  13« 

Virgil,  i.  6,  n.  22.  25,  26.  45,  n.  ii.  291,  292.  452,  n.— hii 
ear,  i.  9,  n.— his  description  cf  a  plough,  how  tar  imitative 
description      -------       44»''* 

Virtue,  (jL^t-rn,)  -  -  -  its  extensive  signification  in  antient 
writers  -----     i.  277,  278,  and  n. 

Ulysses  -  -  -  ridiculous  story  of  his  feigned  mad- 
ness, i.  125,  n.— his  comic  cowardice  in  the  Ajax  of 
Sophocles,  307.— was  the  subject  of  many  dramas,  comic, 
as  well  as  tragic     -         -         -         -         "         -       11.  192 

Unities,  strict  Dramatic,  of  time  and  place,  have  no  autho- 
rity from  Aristotle,  i.  337— 34^-— "^r  from  tht  constant 
practice  of  the  Greek  Poets     -        -        -        341—344 

Unity  of  time,  a  remarkable  instance  ©f  its  violation  in 
Sophocles *•  343 

\5^\iY  fif  Fable,  Aristotle's  distinction  between  that,  and  the 
unity  of  Hero,  defended      -        -         -         -         ii.  54>  55 

Voltaire,  his  censure  of  the  Oedipm  Tyrannus,  as  prolonged 
beyond  its  proper  end,  ii.  46.— mistakes  Aristotle,  130.— 

Y»«9ir0«. '  »*»•  4091 410 


W. 

Warton,  Dr.  -  -  -  -  i.  211,  «.  ii.  84,  85.— of  a  stanza  in 
Spenser       -        -        .        -        .        .        -      i.  19, «. 

Warton,  Mr.  -  -  -  -  his  censure  of  the  prologue  of 
^^'^"S ii.  97,  and«. 

WiNCKELMAN,  Ahbc  -  -  -  -  -  i.  5I     W. 

Women,  Aristotle's  character  of  them       -        -         ii.  137 

Wood,  Preface  to  his  Easay  on  the  Orig,  Genius  of  Homer, 
quoted       -         -         .    "    .         -         .         .         i.  54,  w! 

Words,  obsolete,  to  what  class  of  Aristotle's  poetic  words 
they  are  to  be  referred  -         -        -         -         ii.  316 

Xengphanes,  fragments  of,  ii.  382,  383.— his  idea  of  mo- 
derate drinking      ----__  ngo 

Xenophon ii.48,n. 


Zeuxis  - 


z. 

-  i.  200,  n.  ii.  50.  405,  406,  and  n. 
".395 


TH  E     END. 


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